In the Name of King Edmund
by JennyJoy4
Summary: COMPLETE! VDT bookverse. Caspian and his friends have been captured by slavers, and no Lord Bern comes to rescue him. With a penchant for getting in trouble with his master's head overseer, will Caspian make it off the Lone Islands with his friends?
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Caspian, Lucy, Edmund, Eustace and Reepicheep go ashore and are captured by slave traders. Caspian is sold to Lord Bern before they reach the slave market, and he and the sailors make a show of greater strength than they have and abolish the slave trade in the Lone Islands before the others even make it out of the slave market the next day. But what if Lord Bern had not happened upon Pug and his men on the way to the market and Caspian had been sold to a less compassionate master? Bookverse (obviously, since the movie hasn't come out yet lol), but I've got the actors from the movies in my mind. Yum, dark-haired Caspian! :P

* * *

"Keep moving, there," the overseer said in a bored voice as Caspian marched up the long column of the back stairs to the main house, his hands tied behind his back and a guard on either side. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. His hands had been tied for the better part of a day, with only a respite while he was actually up on the platform, being shown to the crowd by Pug.

"Can't have you looking disobedient, can we?" Pug had smiled at him, showing his rotting teeth, as he cut Caspian's ropes and pulled him up on the platform. "Bad for business."

He had earned the ropes in the first place by defending Lucy. Lucy was certainly a brave woman—they hadn't called her Lucy the Valiant for nothing. Having been captured by slavers and thrown in a smelly pit below a slave auction stage, she had only shown anxiety about the fates of Edmund and Caspian. They had sat on either side of her, huddled close together against the wall as the light faded, and had made her sleep between them overnight—Reepicheep sleeping at her head, though his sword had been confiscated.

But though Lucy made no complaint about her own lot, her companions were alive to the particular risks she ran as a young, pretty female slave. So when one of Pug's men had offered her insult the morning of the sale, Edmund and Caspian had leapt immediately to her defense.

"Aren't you a pretty maid?" the man said, pinching her chin and smirking down into her face. She blanched in the dim light of the slave pit—the first fear for her own person she had shown—and tried to recoil from his beery breath. "Easy, Sweetheart," he leered, leaning in even closer. "I'm just evaluating the merchandise."

"Get your hands off her," Caspian and Edmund ordered as one. The man looked up, surprised.

"Seems you have defenders, eh Sweetheart?" he said, eyeing the two young men as if deciding whether they posed any sort of threat. The other slaves all seemed to have scurried into dark corners, avoiding any sort of involvement in whatever might be coming next.

"Yes she does," Reepicheep spoke up from the ground. "Unhand the lady."

The man did, but only in order to lean his hands on his knees to see the large mouse more easily. His unsteady balance made it clear that he'd had nothing but beer for breakfast. "Are you going to stop me, Signor Rat?" he said. Before Reepicheep even had time to defend his honor as the Captain of the Loyal Order of the King's Mice, the slaver went on, "She's no lady: she's a slave, and I can do with her whatever I please."

In his slightly intoxicated state, the man didn't even see Caspian's fist coming. The slaver, already off his balance, was laid flat on his back in the dirt. Edmund caught Lucy's arm and pulled her behind him, shielding her from the notice of the two other guards, who came running down to deal with the commotion. Caspian, who felt he had made his point with the first blow, didn't attempt to fight off the two men, who were sober and much bulkier than he. They caught his arms behind him, as if to hold him back from further attack on his opponent, who was unsteadily climbing to his feet, nursing his jaw.

"What's all this commotion?" Pug asked lazily, coming down a few steps to see what the trouble was. "Jacques, can't you keep them in order?"

"Yes, sir," Jacques said stubbornly, still rubbing his jaw. When Pug had gone back topside, he turned to glare at Caspian. "Tie his hands," he said to the men. "You'll soon learn," he added threateningly to Caspian himself, "that a slave who don't _respect _his _superiors_ is destined for… hardship." He gave a grin that was more of a grimace and turned to follow his two comrades, who were heading up the stairs. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, turning back, and struck Caspian hard across the face.

Lucy, who hadn't made a sound when she was threatened or when her friend had knocked down her assaulter, made a squeak of surprise and dismay as Caspian staggered to one knee.

"I owed you one," the man growled, stomping up the stairs.

"Oh, Caspian!" Lucy exclaimed, shoving aside Edmund's shielding arm. She produced a handkerchief she had miraculously managed to keep up her sleeve this entire time, and even more miraculously managed to keep clean in the dirt of the slave pit, and dabbed gently at Caspian's bloody lip. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Lucy," Caspian smiled at her.

"And don't call him by his name," Edmund whispered. "We can't let anybody know who he is."

Caspian himself had barely remembered this detail in time when his purchaser, the owner of a large farm, asked for his appellation on leaving the slave market. The young king was distracted, looking for his friends in the crowd. Lucy had been bought as a housemaid and Edmund as a field hand, like himself. Reepicheep, whom the slavers had considered too difficult to keep hold of and had stuffed into a birdcage bought from another merchant at the market, had been sold as entertainment to a rich, snobbish woman in fine clothing, and Pug was still trying to find a buyer for Eustace, whose sour expression and total lack of upper body strength seemed to be against his chances of being purchased. Caspian didn't care about Eustace, except that he was Queen Lucy's kinsman and she seemed to feel some responsibility for him. The others he was rather more worried about.

"Your name, boy!" the farm owner (Caspian would never think of him as his master) repeated, shaking him a little. Caspian started.

"Cas—" he began, and caught himself in time.

The owner waited, and then raised one eyebrow. "There more to that name?" he asked sardonically.

Caspian shook his head. "Nope. Just Cass."

One of the owner's henchmen cuffed Caspian in the back of the head. "That's 'No, _Sir_," he reprimanded, and they were off.

At the edge of the owner's land, the man had gone toward the front stairs of the capacious house, and Caspian and his bodyguards had moved toward the back. "Take her to Sarielle," the owner called over his shoulder.

As they approached the door, Caspian could hear the sound of voices, and glanced up. The face of a young woman peered down on them through an open window, and from it emanated the noise of a large number of people hard at work on some complicated task.

It was this room that the men made for upon entering the building. It seemed to be a kitchen, with two large fireplaces, tables covered in chopped vegetables and slabs of meat, and bushels and crates of produce in a large pile against one wall. It was also full of the bustle of about fifteen slaves preparing a complicated dinner for their master.

"Nolina, is that soup almost ready?" a woman's voice called out over the hubbub. "And Tarien, make sure those capons don't burn!"

"Sarielle," Caspian's captor said, and the woman turned around. Caspian was surprised to see that the owner of that commanding and composed voice was young—about his own age, though her expression was mature. She had an air of control and composure, which lent a slight nobility to her otherwise plain features: unremarkable light brown hair, a straight nose set in a narrow face, and indeterminately colored hazel eyes.

"A new field hand," the guard said. "His name is Cass. The Master says to find him a place to bed down."

Sarielle nodded. "Thank you, Gerius."

"Aren't _you_ going to thank me?" Gerius said in a menacingly friendly tone, clapping his ham-like hand down on Caspian's shoulder. Caspian made no answer and stared straight ahead. "At bow to your new house mother," Gerius coaxed, nodding toward Sarielle. Sarielle, though her chin was still raised and her face expressionless, was carefully avoiding eye contact with all of them.

"Kneel and thank me for bringing you up here," Gerius whispered in Caspian's ear.

Caspian fought the urge to wrinkle his lip in disgust. "Not likely," he muttered.

"What was that?" Gerius said loudly, giving him a little shake. The noise in the kitchen grew significantly quieter, as everyone studiously kept their eyes on their own tasks and their ears open for trouble. Caspian didn't reply, mirroring Sarielle's own blank expression.

Gerius's fist flew out of nowhere into Caspian's solar plexus, knocking the air out of him and doubling him over. Gerius's two henchmen on either side turned him around and threw him face-first into the multi-layered stack of full vegetable crates in the corner.

"Now that's more like it!" Gerius exclaimed with satisfaction as Caspian knelt on the floor, gasping for breath. Gerius caught up a broom from the corner and brought the rough-hewn handle down hard on the King's shoulders—five strokes.

"And the next time you show insolence to your betters, I'll repeat that dance with a whip!" Gerius added. "Sarielle," he said, nodding to the kitchen overseer, who still stood motionless, watching the proceedings.

"Gerius," she nodded back, her voice still carefully neutral. The rest of the slaves still kept their near silent concentration as Gerius and his henchmen left the room, the only sounds those of food preparations and Caspian's gasps for air.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN:** I wasn't planning on publishing anymore fanfiction on her, but fate had another idea. I was awoken by thunder at four this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Finally at 5:30 I gave in, grabbed my laptop, and started typing. I'm not making any guarantees about this story—I'm currently studying for my comprehensive exams, and being a grad student, I probably won't have much time once September rolls around. But so many details of this story came to me between the hours of 4 and 5:30 this morning that I just _had_ to start typing. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Caspian, catching his breath, struggled to right himself without the use of his hands, which were still tied behind him. No one in the kitchen seemed interested in helping him at all, and quiet still reigned as the other slaves continued with the preparations for dinner. Then—

"They're out of range," a maid's voice sang out from the window, and suddenly the room was full of bustle again.

"Alannar, Corian," Sarielle was saying, but the two men had anticipated her order and were already helping Caspian to his feet and cutting the cord that bound his hands.

"You alright there, mate?" Alannar said, dusting off Caspian's shirt, now significantly less clean and white than when he had put it on the morning before.

Caspian nodded as Corian sat him down on a bench by the window. "Yes, thank you," he managed to say, and Alannar clapped him on the shoulder. "Anything in the name of King Edmund," he replied cheerfully as he returned to his work.

Caspian stared after him, dumbfounded. What on earth did he mean by that?

"Igenia, you'd better go ahead and get that soup out on the table," Sarielle was saying, still giving orders. "Nella, when you can spare a moment from those cakes, would you fetch the liniment from the stillroom?"

Despite all the noise and hurry, the slaves in the kitchen seemed to move like clockwork, everyone doing their parts quickly and efficiently like the pieces of a well-oiled machine. Dish after dish was completed, approved by Sarielle, and carried out of the servants' area to the dining room, where the master and his family tasted a bit of each and sent their comments back to the kitchen. When the last course had exited the door under a silver cover, Caspian was surprised to see Sarielle bearing down on him with a bottle of liniment and a rag.

"Let's see your back," she said briskly.

"Oh, that's—not necessary—" he began, startled.

"Nonsense," she replied, sitting down beside him on the bench and removing the cap from the bottle. "You will be very sore and bruised in the morning, and we don't want you to be unfit to work."

Caspian, removing his shirt, made a face—partly of discomfort and partly of derision. "I must say, I really don't care if my _captors_ manage to get any work out of me or not."

"No, very likely not," Sarielle agreed calmly. "You are after all, new to slavery."

"And how do you know that?" Caspian asked, turning his back to her and jumping a little as the chill of an alcohol-based liquid touched his skin. "Gerius didn't tell you so."

"Only a new slave would be so stupidly recalcitrant," she replied blandly as she rubbed the concoction into his skin.

Caspian just managed to refrain from making a very biting retort. Even if this young woman had no pride except in her subservience, the last thing he needed to do was alienate her. After all, she seemed to have some level of authority: it might be helpful to have her on his side when he made his escape from this place and back to his ship. Speaking of which:

"What is your position here?" Caspian asked, attempting to glance over his shoulder at her as she assiduously rubbed the pungent liniment into his upper back.

"I am the housekeeper."

Caspian raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised they trust a position of that kind of authority to a slave," he commented.

If he had meant the comment as a backhanded insult, it missed its mark. "It is a common practice in Doorn," she explained, her voice as expressionless as always.

"You seem a little young for the job," he added after a short silence.

"I was apprenticed in the position. My predecessor's career was cut short when he incurred the master's wrath." She wiped her hands on the rag and put the cork back into the bottle.

Caspian turned to look at her properly, his eyes narrowed. "What did he do?" he asked.

She didn't bother to meet his gaze, looking instead at the slaves who were beginning to bring the empty dishes back into the kitchen. "Stuck his neck out too far," she answered shortly, and rose to meet her workers.

000

Dinner for the slaves was taken in two shifts—not because there wasn't room at the huge table in the servants' quarters of the mansion, but because there had to be a portion of the staff at the master's beck and call at all times. There was general conversation amongst the slaves as they ate, although they kept the noise level down. The topics under discussion were mostly gossip about fellow slaves, the overseers, the master's family, and the inmates of neighboring farms. Caspian also made the acquaintance of more of his fellow workers, field hands and house staff alike. Apparently Sarielle had been right: his behavior _had_ announced to everyone in the kitchen that he was new to slavery, and he was showered with questions about who he was and where he was from. He considered telling them at least part of the truth—that he had been sailing on a ship from Narnia and had been separated from the crew and captured on Felimath. But he did not trust them with the truth. They were, after all, unknown to him, and if his experience in the kitchen was anything to judge by, they might be more inclined to protect themselves than to help him return to his ship. So instead he told them that he had been captured in Galma. He was posed for a moment when they asked him what his trade had been—he had to be someone of low enough rank that his capture by slavers wouldn't have sent people after him, but if he claimed to be a farmer or carpenter he would soon have ample opportunity to demonstrate by his ignorance that he was nothing of the kind. He settled for a declaring himself a stablehand: skill with horses was one royal accomplishment that could transfer to the lower classes.

Sarielle ate in the first shift, as well. She didn't join in the gossiping, but she seemed to be listening to it. The only conversations she entered into were those discussing practical concerns, like which vegetables needed to be harvested next or who was in charge of mending for the week.

She set Caspian to work immediately after dinner, tying closed the mouths of small sacks of spices that had been grown and dried on the farm. The job was easy but left the mind free to wander, and Caspian's wandered with a vengeance.

Brief though his earlier conversation in the kitchen with Sarielle had been, it gave Caspian plenty of food for thought. He realized that he had been secretly cherishing a hope that the slaves he encountered would be enthusiastic to revolt against their so-called masters and gain their freedom. To find that on the contrary his fellow workers seemed meek and timid, perfectly ready to help up a fellow slave once the overseers were out of earshot but studiously deaf and blind to any abuse going on under their very noses, was rather a blow. It didn't augur well for his plans of escape. And then, escape itself was such an uncertain prospect. Drinian would know that something was wrong when he and the others didn't reappear on the far side of Felimath. He would probably send some men ashore to search for them, and when this turned up nothing, what would they think had happened? They might ask for their comrades at the small village Caspian had spotted on the coast of Felimath, but would the inhabitants there know anything about Pug's little kidnapping escapade on shore? No one had come out of the nearby inn when Caspian and his friends had been piled into Pug's boat, and thus he couldn't be sure that anyone had even seen them. Would Drinian sail around Doorn in search of his king? And even if he did, Pug had taken Caspian's horn when they were captured, and he had no way to signal the ship.

"How's it going?"

Caspian jumped.

"Sorry," Sarielle said blandly. She glanced over the rows of sacks he had tied. "You seem to be making progress." Picking up one of them, she tested the twine Caspian had wrapped around the mouth of the sack. "These look like nice, tight knots," she observed.

"Thank you," Caspian replied briefly, turning back to his work.

After a few moments, Sarielle put down the sack. "When you're finished here, come back to the kitchen. Alannar will show you where you'll be sleeping."

Caspian nodded his understanding, and when he next looked up, Sarielle was gone. Caspian shook his head with a grimace. The King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands, enslaved in Doorn and tying up burlap sacks under the thumb of a provincial farmer and his expressionless housekeeper. This was _not _how he had pictured a jaunt over Felimath ending up.

**TBC**

**AN**: Short chapter, I know. The next chapter will contain more excitement than tying sacks, I promise!

Thanks to everyone who commented! Sorry for the typo: in the AN at the bottom of the last chapter, I meant to write that I wasn't planning on writing anymore fic on _here_, not _her_. Meaning that I had meant to give up writing fanfiction and focus on my orig fic. But best laid plans and all that. :)


	3. Chapter 3

The room that Caspian shared that night with Alannar and four other men had a flagstone floor, just as the rest of the servants' hall did. He did not, as he feared for a moment he might, have to sleep on the bare flags, however. He had been provided with a thin straw tick, which although it smelled very musty, was far better than a stone floor. Nonetheless, he had a very restless night: his sleep was disturbed by recurrent visions of his friends being mistreated by their captors, and he awoke not very refreshed, but even more determined than he had been the previous day to find a means of escape.

Breakfast consisted of one small barley loaf apiece as they headed out to the fields, with the sun not yet risen over the roofs of Narrowhaven, to the east. Caspian and three other field hands were assigned the job of mowing hay in a few outlying meadows. He was handed a long-bladed scythe and a whetstone in a belt pouch as they passed the largest barn. He eyed the scythe dubiously. _This _was going to be interesting.

Each of the four reapers was positioned at one corner of the four-sided meadow, and would be working down his own side in a clockwise fashion. Alannar, who was one of his fellow reapers, briefly showed Caspian how to hold the scythe blade parallel to the ground, swiveling his body from right to left so as to cut the grass and leave it in a pile on his left.

"Now you have a go," he said.

Caspian tried a few sweeps.

"No, don't hack at it," Alannar counseled. "Just a nice sweeping stroke."

Caspian tried again.

"Better. Only don't try to cut such a wide swath at once. Just try to keep your blade close to the ground and your cut even. Don't gouge the blade into the ground; it dulls it."

Alannar watched Caspian do a few more strokes, then headed back to his own corner of the field to get started.

Mowing the hay was very hard work. The other three reapers moved at a steady pace, fluidly culling the green hay from the field. Caspian, despite his best efforts, still chopped at it, amazed to find that one could swing a scythe too hard for it to be effective. He didn't realize the first time his blade grew too dull, and swung repeatedly at the same clump of hay before he noticed one of the other reapers stop to sharpen his blade. Luckily, this was something Caspian knew how to do: sharpening blades was the task of housewife, soldier and farmer alike.

Caspian's shirt was drenched with sweat and stuck tight to his skin by the time the sun was high in the sky and it was declared that the hay was now too dry to cut. Nonetheless, each of Caspian's fellow reapers had passed him at least once as they came around the field, working their way in from the edges.

"I'm sorry I slowed you down so much," the young king commented, wiping the sweat from his forehead as they headed back to the barn to exchange their scythes for hay rakes and pitchforks.

Alannar shrugged his shoulders. "Better having a new mower than just being the three of us! And you'll get the hang of it eventually."

They worked on turning, raking and gathering already-mown hay for the rest of the day, with a break for the midday meal. This was taken under the shade of a few large old trees near the barn, where Sarielle, accompanied by various members of the kitchen staff, came out to them with bread, cheese, vegetables and water. Caspian struck up a conversation with Igenia, one of the kitchen slaves. She was a few years younger than him and small, with delicate proportions, black hair, and big dark eyes. He learned that she was a native of Terebinthia, and had been captured by Pug himself and sold as a slave three years before. She mentioned Sarielle in her description of her daily work.

"Sarielle's the housekeeper," Caspian recalled. "Does she have the authority to discipline the workers?"

"Oh yes," Igenia replied, her soft Terabinthian accent curling her vowels. "But she doesn't often have to do so. The other slaves all love her too much to disobey her orders or show her any disrespect."

Caspian fought back a laugh. How could anybody love Sarielle?—particularly her fellow slaves, for whom she didn't seem interested in sticking out her neck.

Before the meal was over he saw another example of, as he thought of it, Sarielle's negligence of her staff. Gerius approached Igenia toward the end of the meal, when she was a little distance away from the rest of the workers. Caspian couldn't hear what Gerius said to her, but the overseer's leer and Igenia's distressed expression and changes in complexion—first blushing bright red and then blanching paper-white—told him everything he needed to know.

Caspian glanced around. He almost thought one or two of the others slaves had noticed the interchange as he had, but nobody, not even Sarielle, who was meandering in Igenia's direction, seemed like they were planning to interfere. Caspian felt himself grow hot with anger. Well, even if no one else was going to try to save an innocent girl from a brute like Gerius, _he _certainly wasn't going to stand by and do nothing!

"Leave her alone," he said, approaching the two of them.

Silence fell over the group, much as it had in the kitchen the evening before. None of the slaves was looking in his direction, everyone trying to appear as if they weren't listening, but they were obviously all ears.

Gerius' first expression was one of great surprise, his second of sullen anger. "What was that?" he asked. Igenia, still white-faced, attempted to slide silently away.

"I said leave her alone, Gerius," Caspian repeated. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Alannar involuntarily shake his head in dismay. The two other overseers present began to move in.

Gerius almost snarled at him, and noticing Igenia moving away, grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She gave an involuntary squeak. Furious, Caspian raised his arm to strike the girl's attacker.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, with three overseers pummeling and kicking him breathless. Royal dignity forgotten, he curled into a ball and attempted to shield his head. Finally, two of the men grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet again.

Gerius' face leered into his field of vision. "I should half-kill you for insubordination," he snarled. "But as the master paid good money just yesterday and expects some work out of you, I'll just give you a warning." He looked up at his two associates. "Take him over to the haywain," he barked out.

Caspian was dragged over to the large wagon, currently empty, that stood near the lunching workers—most of whom were still sitting silent and motionless under the trees, looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact with each other. The overseers tied Caspian's hands to one of the uprights at the corner of the wagon and yanked his shirt up over his head.

"Hand me that bullwhip," Gerius growled to one of them.

The next few minutes were the most painful of the young king's life. And that included the time he was bitten by a werewolf and when he was kicked in the ribs by a crazed horse in the battle with the northern giants the summer before. This was far worse than a broken rib. Gerius only gave him seven lashes, but it was all he could do to remain standing when they untied his hands from the hay wagon.

"You should thank me for taking it easy on you," Gerius hissed in Caspian's ear as he coiled the whip.

If that was the effect of only seven lashes, Caspian decided, Gerius probably _had_ taken it easy on him. He didn't even want to imagine what twenty or more might have felt like.

By the time Caspian was finally able to stand up straight without holding onto the haywain with white knuckles, and to again take some notice of anything else except the searing pain in his back, the midday rest was over and the house slaves were preparing to go back into the kitchen. Everyone was quiet and subdued. Igenia was staying as far away from Gerius as possible, and when he was distracted for a few moments, she scurried past Caspian.

He rather expected her to express her thanks, so he was startled when she only glanced up at him with a white face and whispered, "You shouldn't have done that."

He stared after her in surprise as she hurried to join the rest of the kitchen staff on their way back to the house.

"Well, lad," Alannar said, approaching him with a pitchfork in his hand, "we'd better head out to the back meadow." He looked Caspian up and down, from white face and bleeding back to somewhat unsteady knees. "I think you'd better mind the oxen, while we pitch the hay."

Caspian agreed thankfully, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep the sun off of his raw back.

**TBC**

**AN:** In reply to the query: This fic will be mostly from Caspian's POV: he has a much more interesting time of it than most of the others…


	4. Chapter 4

Caspian lay on his stomach in the silence and darkness of the sleeping room. His back still burned like fire, and he was both physically and mentally exhausted with the pain. It was dinnertime, but Caspian neither felt the motivation nor the interest in getting up to eat. Instead he had decided to lie there and think. Eventually he gave up on the thinking part, and merely stared at the wall of the room, darkening now as the evening came.

A voice startled him out of his reverie. "Sarielle sent me to clean up your back."

Caspian pushed himself up high enough to turn his head and peer blearily at the girl in the doorway. He had seen her among the kitchen staff—she was tall and graceful, with soft blonde hair falling down her back. She held an empty bowl in one hand and a lamp in the other.

"That's alright," Caspian replied, trying to keep the groan out of his voice. "It's likely to take awhile, and I don't want you to miss dinner."

"Oh, it's all in the name of King Edmund," she answered, moving to set down the lamp.

There was that phrase again! Caspian frowned, but didn't feel like delving into the topic at the moment.

"Don't worry about it," he repeated, turning his head back to stare at the far wall. The girl shifted nervously for a moment, as if she would argue with him, but then she left, taking the lamp with her.

In a few minutes, though, the light was back. Caspian expected it to be the same girl, and was rather surprised when Sarielle said, "She wouldn't really have missed dinner, you know."

Caspian turned to stare at her as she sat down next to his pallet with the lamp and the bowl, now full of mildly soapy warm water. "When Susan came back and told me what you said, I realized you might not have understood her."

"Susan?" Caspian said in surprise as Sarielle dipped a cloth in the bowl and wrung it out. "Was that her name?"

"Yes." Sarielle narrowed her eyes at him, stilling her movements for a moment. "Why?"

"It's—" Caspian recalled himself. "It's just an old Narnian name, that's all."

Sarielle still looked thoughtful, but then she returned to the subject at hand. "You don't actually object to having your wounds cleaned?" she clarified, indicating the cloth. "They'll likely get infected if you don't. In fact, it should really have been done hours ago, but Gerius wasn't going to let you come in from the fields after your confrontation."

Caspian shook his head. "Go ahead. I just didn't want Susan to miss her shift at the table."

"I was keeping some food aside for her," Sarielle explained, wiping gently at the lashmarks on his back. "That's what she meant when she said she was acting in the name of King Edmund."

Caspian bit back a hiss of pain, grimaced, and swallowed hard before answering, his voice tolerably steady as she cleaned his wounds. "I've heard that phrase a couple of times, now. I don't think I entirely understand it."

Sarielle gave what Caspian almost thought was the ghost of a smile at these words, but it was gone before it entirely registered. "King Edmund was a great king in Narnia long ago," Sarielle explained. "They say he was a very just ruler. Anyone who had been oppressed could appeal to him, and they could be sure that he would defend them.

"The slaves in these islands have long said that one day King Edmund will return to free us. We look forward to that day. Meanwhile, it is our duty to help one another—but we have learned to help one another _wisely_."

Caspian caught his breath as she cleaned a particularly tender cut, but his mind was on much greater things than the pain in his back. He pushed the implications of Sarielle's words to the back of his mind to be pondered later—he needed to learn more. "What do you consider to be 'helping wisely'?" he asked.

"We help one another as much as possible, but at the same time, we try not to incur the anger of the overseers. As you did this morning."

Despite his exhaustion, Caspian flared up at that. "Somebody had to stop Gerius!" he exclaimed fiercely. "That poor girl—"

"And what did your defense of her achieve?" Sarielle broke in, a hint of annoyance in her usually calm voice. "You were flogged and Igenia is just as vulnerable to Gerius as she was before. In fact, he is now probably even more determined to possess her, just to show you who's boss!"

Caspian opened his mouth to retort, and closed it again. He remembered the look on Gerius's face as he had grabbed Igenia's arm and pulled her back as she was sneaking away.

Sarielle waited a moment, and then continued, her voice once more calm and controlled. "You need to learn that you are now a slave, and slaves have no power here. The only ones with the power are the overseers and the master. We cannot directly challenge them; we only have the ability to subvert. Challenging Gerius will only get you and everyone around you into trouble. If you want to defy him, you will have to be rather more creative about how you do it."

She set aside the bowl of water and gently patted his back dry with a soft flannel. "When Susan told you she was acting in the name of King Edmund, she meant that she wouldn't miss her dinner: she was taking care of herself, as well as you. That is how you must act if you want to help your fellow slaves." She paused and gave him the tiniest of smiles—yet somehow it softened her entire expression. "The next time an overseer threatens someone, you should probably leave the protecting to an expert."

Caspian returned a wry smile. "Probably."

Sarielle gathered up her things and rose to leave. Caspian caught the hem of her dress. "Sarielle." She glanced down at him. "Thank you."

The tiny smile appeared again. "All in the name of King Edmund," she answered, and left the room.

000

The conversation had given Caspian plenty of food for thought. To tell the truth, he was rather ashamed of himself. He hadn't understood what it was truly like to be a slave, and had judged his comrades' behavior based on that of free people. He realized now that to expect a slave, someone with almost no power even over her own life, to put herself in jeopardy for another was selfish. It was one thing if you knew a ship was coming for you and you could leave as soon as they found you. It was another thing entirely to know that you were a powerless slave and would be one for the rest of your life. Sarielle had said that the last housekeeper had been killed for "sticking his neck out too far". With no imminent chance of release from captivity, the slaves had to keep their heads down.

He had to admit that Igenia had been right. He shouldn't have stuck up for her in the way he had; he had only made matters worse, not only for himself, but for her. Maybe the reason all the slaves loved Sarielle so much was because she didn't make such scenes. She kept in the overseers' good graces, and so kept her position and her ability to intercede wisely on her workers' behalf.

Caspian was to see an example of Sarielle's wise intercession the next day at lunch. As predicted, Gerius was still showing too much interest in Igenia, and he kept throwing mocking smiles in Caspian's direction as he did so. Caspian managed to swallow his spleen and his pride and ignore the overseer as much as possible. Finally, toward the end of the midday meal, when the slaves were beginning to disperse back to their tasks, Gerius cornered Igenia by one of the large trees. Caspian, rather worried, glanced around for Sarielle.

And there she was, walking toward Igenia without even a glance at Gerius. "There you are, Igenia," she said in her usual calm way. "Remember what we discussed this morning?" Igenia turned to look at her with panic in her eyes. Gerius looked irritated. "You need to cut some goldenseal and red clover…?" Igenia's eyes widened and a blush spread over her face. She nodded and silently rushed off.

Gerius directed a fulminating glance toward Sarielle, who didn't seem to notice, watching Igenia disappear in the direction of one of the uncut hayfields. "Poor girl," she said, shaking her head, then dropped her voice so that Caspian only barely caught her next sentence. "She has the itch."

Gerius' expression of surprise and disgust and the bland way in which Sarielle walked off to attend to her other duties was almost ludicrous, and Caspian turned away to hide a smile. He wondered how many pretty serving girls Sarielle had falsely attributed with sexually transmitted diseases. It couldn't be comfortable for Igenia to know that Gerius and the other overseers thought that of her, but Caspian was sure she preferred it to being molested.

Gerius, in his annoyance and disappointment, had noticed that Caspian was still nearby, not moving as quickly as some of the others toward the hay meadows. "Back to work, boy," he said, giving Caspian a hearty clap on the back. Caspian shut his eyes and gritted his teeth.

**TBC**

**AN**: Did you know there's a method for speeding up fan fiction writers and prodding them to produce chapters more quickly? Just hit the little review button below! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Caspian and the other reapers returned the hay wagon to the barn late that evening, after most of the other slaves had headed in to dinner. They unhitched the oxen and stalled them, but decided to leave the hay for the morrow.

"We can pitch it up into the loft before we take the wagon back out to the fields after the midday meal," Alannar suggested, and the other three agreed. It had been a long day, and they were all ready for dinner and bed—particularly Caspian. Cutting and pitching hay was not a recipe for keeping one's back still, and the movement made the whip cuts on his back open, shift, and sting. All he wanted to do was get some dinner, and then hold very, very still for a very long time.

"Hey you! Cass!" The reapers turned around. Gerius was striding toward them from the other end of the barn. "Where are you going?" he asked impatiently, but with a tone of triumph in his voice.

"We were just—"

"I wasn't talking to you, Alannar," Gerius growled.

"We were going in to dinner," Caspian answered.

"Were you really." There was definitely a gleam of some kind of amusement in Gerius' eye. "You know, I didn't see you doing much work for that dinner today," he continued conversationally.

It was untrue that Caspian hadn't worked, but Gerius was right that he hadn't done as much work as the others. He was slow, partly because of the pain in his back and partly because of his inexperience. Gerius knew all this.

"I worked all day—"

Gerius cut him off. "Are you contradicting me?"

Caspian shut his mouth.

After a moment, Gerius repeated. "Are you contradicting me, Cass?"

_Follow Sarielle's advice, _Caspian told himself, and swallowed his pride. "No," he answered.

"No _what?_"

Caspian compressed his lips, then forced himself to say, "No, Sir."

Gerius smiled with satisfaction, then went on. "_These _men worked all day," he said, indicating the other three reapers. "_You _didn't."

Caspian kept his mouth shut.

"You three go on and get your dinner," Gerius dismissed them, then turned back to Caspian. "Cass is going to make up for the work he missed."

Caspian stiffened as his companions, with regretful glances back at him, slowly walked up the stairs and into the house and he was left alone with the overseer, who was now circling around him like a vulture around a dying animal.

"Well Cass, since you couldn't be bothered to help pitch the hay _into _the wagon," Gerius said, nodding toward the hay wain, "you can pitch it _out_ of the wagon."

Caspian stared at him.

"Go on," Gerius said, thrusting his head forward menacingly. He picked up a pitchfork and tossed it at Caspian. "Get to work."

000

It was not long before Caspian came to the conclusion that Igenia had been right. He _shouldn't _have tried to stand up for her. The burning pain in his back reminded him of this every time he moved. Gerius, balked of his prey by Sarielle's smart move, had now decided to take out his frustrations on an apparently rebellious slave. Caspian's sweat was dripping into the cuts across his back and stinging fiercely. And even though he was working hard and sweating freely, the evening had grown cool, and he shivered periodically. Meanwhile, he could just see, by the light of two oil lamps left burning for him, that he had only made what looked like a small dent in the load of hay in the wagon. He had no idea how long he had been working at it—from the agony in his back, it felt like an eternity, but perhaps it had only been a few hours.

"I thought I told you to pick up the pace," Gerius said behind him, causing Caspian, who had been lost in his own thoughts, to jump. Gerius shook his head at the pile of hay and tsked. "I should keep you at it until you finish, but then I'd _never_ get to bed. You'd better work faster than that tomorrow."

Caspian, taking this as permission to leave off his work, silently nodded and climbed gingerly down from the hay wagon. Aware of Gerius' eye on him, he moved to put away his pitchfork and headed stiffly out of the barn.

"Cass!" Gerius said one last time, and Caspian turned around. "Come out tomorrow ready to do your share of the work."

Caspian nodded.

"What was that?" Gerius cupped his hand to his ear. "I didn't hear you."

"Yes, Sir," Caspian answered, too weary to care about his pride. Gerius turned on his heel without a word and marched back toward his quarters, and Caspian back toward the kitchens.

The rooms on either side of the corridor were dark and silent as Caspian entered, dragging his feet with weariness. Someone had left a lamp burning in the sleeping room, and there was a small bundle on his bed, which he discovered consisted in some bread, cheese and cold meat for his dinner. Sarielle had laid some aside for him, just as she had for Susan. He dropped wearily onto his pallet and ate a few bites, but soon discovered that he had lost all appetite. He just wanted to sleep. Wrapping the rest of the food back up and laying it on the floor, he stretched out on his stomach and tried to ignore the pain in his back. His last coherent thought before falling asleep was of Lucy, Edmund and Reepicheep. He hoped desperately that they weren't faring as badly as he was. They all needed to get back to the ship, and soon.

000

"Cass? Cass, wake up."

"Mmm?" Caspian opened his eyes blearily. Corian was shaking him awake.

"Cass, it's time to get up."

Caspian groaned, and moved his stiff limbs to push himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed the sleep out of his dry eyes and looked up to see Corian frowning at him.

"You look terrible," Corian informed him matter-of-factly. "You've got lines under your eyes. How late did that bastard keep you working last night?"

"Corian," Alannar said warningly, and Corian grinned up at his elder.

"What? Nobody's here to hear me except you three, and _you're _not going to rat me out."

Alannar shook his head at the impudence of the younger man, but let the matter drop.

Caspian wasn't listening. He tried to roll his stiff shoulders and caught his breath in a gasp as searing pain shot across his back.

His reaction hadn't escaped his companions. "Cass?" Alannar said worriedly. "Are you alright?"

After a moment, Caspian managed to nod. "I'm just a bit stiff," he replied faintly.

"Those cuts don't look good," Rainen commented. "You'd better see Sarielle."

Caspian barely heard him, or indeed anyone else he passed on his way down the corridor a few minutes later. He walked slowly and a trifle unsteadily, keeping one hand close to the wall as the rest of the slaves passed him by, chatting with one another. He had tuned out the sound of their voices, and didn't even hear his own adopted name being called until Sarielle stepped in front of him. He jumped.

"You're flushed," she said, and pressed on hand to his forehead. "You have a fever," she concluded. "Turn around; let me see your back."

Caspian complied silently, and she inspected his lacerations. "A few of these cuts are infected," she told him. "Let me put some salve on them."

Caspian followed her wordlessly into the kitchen, where the staff were already at work. Sarielle fetched a bottle of ointment from the stillroom and anointed his back with it, as she had done his first night there. Cass kept a hard grip on the back of the bench as she gently rubbed in the strong-smelling liquid and tried to concentrate on the sound of the raindrops striking the tiles on the kitchen roof.

"There," Sarielle said at last, corking the bottle. "Now you go back to your quarters and go to bed."

"What?" Caspian said, staring at her in surprise. "Don't I have to work?"

"Not when you're this sick," Sarielle replied, standing up and offering him a hand. "I'll tell the overseers you're ill. It's raining anyway," she added as Caspian stood up unsteadily. "They won't be working on the hay."

000

Caspian was immensely relieved to be able to return to the silent sleeping quarters and go back to bed. But his fitful rest was disturbed by strangely garish nightmares. In one, he spotted the Dawn Treader on the beach by the southernmost hay meadows, but when he tried to hail her, she sailed away and into a storm, where she was wrecked before his eyes. In another he dreamed that he returned to Cair Paravel, but when he arrived he was greeted by his uncle, who was dressed like Gerius and informed him that he was now a slave on the Cair Paravel plantation. When he managed to get back to sleep after this tormenting vision, he dreamed that he was walking the streets of Narrowhaven after dark, searching for his friends. He kept thinking he saw them just ahead, only to find them gone when he reached the place. Then he heard a scream, and stumbled over something in street. He leaned down to stare at it, and found himself looking into the eyes of Lucy. She was stone dead.

"Cass!"

Caspian jerked awake, panting with horror. Someone was shaking his arm.

"Cass, you have to come out. Gerius says you have to help with the wall."

Caspian realized where he was and shook himself awake, trying to calm his breathing. _Lucy is fine,_ he told himself. _Lucy is fine, and so are the others. Lucy is fine…_

"Cass, did you hear what I said?" Caspian looked up at the kitchen slave kneeling over him. "Gerius says you have to come out and help them work on the wall."

"What wall?" he asked blearily.

**TBC**

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

_Of course it _would _rain today,_ Sarielle thought resignedly as she wrapped herself in her woolen cloak and followed her staff out the kitchen door. They needed to harvest vegetables from the kitchen gardens today; there could really be no waiting, and the rain was drizzling down. It wasn't pouring hard enough to give them an excuse to put it off, but it was raining just enough that they would all be pretty thoroughly soaked by the time they finished. She would count herself lucky if Cass were the only one to come down with something after today's work.

The field hands in particular would not have a pleasant day. They obviously couldn't cut the hay in the rain. Gerius had set them to work pitching the hay they had gathered yesterday into the loft in the barn, but he had informed Sarielle that after that the men would be working on the dry-stone wall around the vegetable plots. They had had problems recently with the goats getting into the vegetables, and the master had had them start the wall a few weeks before. The first few layers had already been laid; Rainen was skilled at dry-stone work and Alannar had helped with one or two of these sorts of fences over the course of his life, so the master had not needed to hire outside help.

Sarielle was in and out of the house a few times over the course of the morning, directing her staff on which portions of the garden to harvest and where to stack the crates of vegetables in the storeroom. The noonday meal was taken indoors, after which the men headed out toward the vegetable garden with wheelbarrows to begin work on the wall. Sarielle herself fetched her cloak from the screen before the fire and went back out to the vegetable garden to decide on the next phase of the harvest.

As she came down the outside steps, Sarielle caught sight of a figure some distance ahead of her, moving slowly in the same direction she was. She squinted through the drizzle. Surely that wasn't… It was. Cass.

Sarielle hurried to catch up with him by the vegetable garden. "Cass, what are you doing out of bed?" she exclaimed.

When Cass turned to her, she saw that his face was still flushed, and his gaze was bleary. But before he could answer her, Gerius stepped in.

"I sent for him," the overseer answered her. "His help is needed on this wall."

"He has a fever," Sarielle replied, somewhat startled. She had thought that Gerius' ill feelings toward Cass would have mostly burnt themselves up after the flogging and the extra work he had set the young man to the night before, but apparently she had been wrong. "And working in this chilly rain—"

"I'm not interested in what you think about his condition," Gerius said with irritation. "Cass, get one of those wheelbarrows and follow Corian out to the stone pile."

Sarielle watched in concern as Cass, moving slowly, did as Gerius bid.

The stone pile was a little distance away, out of sight of the vegetable garden behind a stand of trees. These rocks had been cleared out of the fields several years ago and deposited here, out of the way.

"Look for flat ones—like this," Corian said, hefting a medium-sized rock into his wheelbarrow.

Cass nodded and began loading stones into his own barrow. The movement aggravated the inflamed cuts in his back, and he bit his lip, trying to adjust his movements to move his back as little as possible.

He moved much more slowly than Corian, taking nearly twice as long to load his wheelbarrow and follow the other man back to the vegetable plot. The chilly rain began to soak through his fine linen shirt, causing the fabric to stick to his back. Caspian started to shiver.

Sarielle watched the new slave's progress worriedly. He obviously was not up to this kind of work today, especially with his fever and the weather. Gerius could surely tell how ill Cass was. If the new slave's health and working ability deteriorated so quickly after his purchase, Gerius would bear the brunt of the master's wrath—but he didn't seem to care. It was a bad sign. Sarielle had seen Gerius in this frame of mind only once before: with Stevanis, the master's last housekeeper. Stevanis had become a little too bold, a little too fearless in his dealings with the overseers and in his defense of his staff. He had challenged Gerius's authority, pushed him just a bit too far. Gerius' reaction had been just like this: he stewed on his resentment, and it grew, bit by bit, with little further provocation from Stevanis. It had ended with Gerius flogging the housekeeper to death.

Sarielle had heard through the grapevine that the master had informed Gerius if he ever lost him such a valuable investment again, he would lose his job. For a couple years now Gerius had toed the line. All the slaves were perfectly aware of what he was capable of and had tried never to provoke him. But now Cass had finally done so, and Gerius was not taking it well. Not well at all.

Sarielle remained by the vegetable garden for some time in the rain, ostensibly directing the kitchen staff, but surreptitiously keeping an eye on Cass. As time stretched on, his movements grew slower and more pained and his eyes began to look glassy.

Finally, half-way through the afternoon, Sarielle looked up in time to see Cass, only a hundred feet from the stone wall, stumble and go down. His wheelbarrow, which was precariously loaded, capsized beside him. He quickly picked himself up and began to reload the wheelbarrow. Sarielle could see that he was shivering. Corian quickly dumped his barrow by the wall and hurried to help him.

"Corian, get back to your own work," Gerius barked. Corian, startled, glanced over at Sarielle and complied.

"Gerius," Sarielle said quietly, "Cass is not well. I am afraid that this hard work, and the cold weather—"

"Shut your mouth, Sarielle," Gerius spat, cutting her off. "You're starting to sound like Stevanis. I don't need you, or any other slave, telling me how to do my job. Cass hasn't been pulling his weight around here, and he's going to do his share of the work. Understood?"

Sarielle saw Cass steal a glance at her under his brows as he continued to reload his wheelbarrow. Almost imperceptibly, she saw him shake his head at her. He didn't want her to get in trouble for his sake.

"Yes, Sir," Sarielle answered Gerius quietly. "Sorry, Sir."

Gerius grunted in response and turned back to watch Cass at his work.

Sarielle was shaken. Even when he was annoyed with her, Gerius had never spoken to her that way before, and the mention of Stevanis was definitely a threat. She quietly moved a little distance away from the overseer.

Her movement brought her closer to a small group of housemaids who were working in the far corner of the vegetable garden. One of them had run an errand into Narrowhaven that morning, and she and her friends were discussing the latest news from the town.

"What kind of ship was it?" one of the girls asked.

"No one knows," Telea answered. "It didn't have a flag raised. But they said it had a prow like a dragon and purple sails. I heard old Mr. Claybottom say it looked like the sorts of ships that used to come from Narnia long ago."

Isobel rolled her eyes. "Old Mr. Claybottom is full of ridiculous stories."

"He's very well-read," Igenia defended him. "They say he has a huge library in that old house of his."

"Well anyway, the ship can't have come from Narnia," Isobel argued. She was from Galma. "Everybody agrees, nobody's built a proper ship in Narnia for centuries. The Narnians don't like the sea. There's a few fishermen live by the shore, but they're the brave ones, and even they won't go far out. It's the Galmians who do all the trading for Narnia."

"Well, there's a new king in Narnia," Susan spoke up. She was from the southern coast of Narnia and felt she must defend her native land. "They said he's changing a lot of things. Maybe he's sending out ships."

"Well even if he is, I don't think this can have been a ship from the King," Telea answered, firmly bringing attention back to herself as the bearer of news. "They said the ship hasn't come into harbor within view of Narrowhaven. If the King sent a ship to the Lone Islands, they'd put in here and have a royal welcome from the Governor. They said the way _this_ ship was moving, it looked like they were searching for something. Mrs. Featherhead said maybe it was a scout ship, sent to look at the harbor before the rest of the ships attack." The girls all murmured in excited surprise. "But Mr. Claybottom told her a scout ship wouldn't come with a dragonhead prow and purple sails. It would come in _inconspicuously_, so that no one wouldn't even know it was there." She pronounced the longer word carefully, showing off her erudition.

"A little less chatter, girls," Sarielle said calmly. "You don't want to spend all day out here in the rain."

A couple of the maids shifted their woolen cloaks self-consciously, and they all redoubled their efforts.

000

As the afternoon dragged on, Cass's condition visibly deteriorated. He had taken on the look of a sleepwalker, and Sarielle was sure that Corian was helping him load his wheelbarrow when they were out of Gerius' sight. He had stopped shivering, which Sarielle worried was a bad sign—as if he had become too ill even to shiver. And his quiet and dogged persistence seemed to make Gerius even angrier. Cass had known better than to try to rest, except for the short water breaks he and the other men were allowed. Consequently, Gerius had no excuse to abuse him—ot at least, no excuse that would hold any water with the other overseers.

Sarielle spent as much time as possible outside, checking up on Cass from afar and keeping an eye on Gerius' mood. She breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of the bells of Narrowhaven could be heard at six o'clock. The other overseers, who had also been watching Gerius warily all day, began to make unmistakable signs of knocking off work for the evening. Cass, just returned from the stone pile, dumped his load and then straightened up gingerly.

"Come on, Gerius," one of the overseers called. "Let's go to dinner."

Gerius scowled and hesitated. Turning toward Cass, he struck the young man across the face. Cass stumbled and caught himself on the half-built wall. The other slaves all froze, trying not to look like they were watching. Slowly, Cass straightened once more, lifted his chin, and stared over Gerius' shoulder. Gerius ground his teeth, then turned on his heel and stalked away. Cass remained motionless, staring straight ahead, until Gerius had disappeared into the house. Then he wavered.

"Quick—!" Sarielle exclaimed. Corian and Alannar had anticipated her order, and they caught their companion neatly as Cass finally collapsed.

**TBC**

**AN: **Sorry I took so long to update: this chapter was unexpectedly difficult to write!


	7. Chapter 7

Cass groaned as Alannar and Corian scooped him up in their arms, putting pressure on the raw flesh of his back.

"Quick, bring him inside." Sarielle hurried toward the house. "We must get him warm immediately."

Cass seemed oblivious of all that was going on around him as servants moved out of Alannar and Corian's path. He muttered unintelligibly once or twice, weakly blinking the rain out of his eyes. "Drinian!" Sarielle heard him say. "Lucy—she's gone overboard…"

"Take him to my room," Sarielle told the two reapers.

"_Your _room?" Alannar grunted in surprise.

"Yes. The three of you have been working hard all day, and Gerius will expect the same tomorrow," the housekeeper explained quickly. "If Cass remains delirious, he's likely to keep you up half the night. I will take care of him."

Corian and Alannar exchanged a meaningful glance, but made no reply.

"Get him into dry clothes," she added, holding the door open for them. I'll fetch some extra blankets."

She hurried off down another corridor, and Corian raised his eyebrows at Alannar as Rainen went to find Cass some dry clothes. "Think she's falling for him?" he asked when Sarielle was out of earshot.

"Dunno," Alannar answered. "Doesn't seem like her. Especially to fall for a slave who's this much trouble."

"Lucy!" Cass exclaimed again, his voice fuzzy.

"Easy, Cass," Alannar answered. "Almost there."

"Who's this Lucy, do you suppose?" Corien asked as they laid their comrade down on the floor of Sarielle's chamber.

"His sister, maybe," Alannar said, beginning to strip off Cass's wet shirt. "Ah, Rainen," he added as the other man returned with dry clothes. "Help me get this wet stuff off him."

They had Cass into dry clothes by the time Sarielle returned with more blankets. His skin, when she touched it, was cold. Methodically, they began to chafe his limbs. Finally, they wrapped him up in blankets and moved his pallet close to the fire. He had begun to shiver again, which Sarielle took to be a good sign.

"Drinian—the ship!" Cass moaned, tossing his head.

"Thank you, men," Sarielle said quickly to the reapers. "Go ahead to your dinner."

They all exited but Alannar, who paused in the doorway and put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "He's young and strong, Sarielle. He'll be fine."

"Thank you, Alannar," Sarielle replied calmly, and he left her alone with Cass.

000

Caspian was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him throughout the night. He was lucid some of the time, though he wasn't quite sure where he was. But these periods of semi-lucidity were interspersed with disturbed sleep, hallucinations, and nightmares. In the worst of these, he saw the bodies of Edmund and Lucy, thrown out into the streets of Narrowhaven by their callous masters. In his dream, Caspian ran toward them, but hands held him back as he cried out their names. "Lucy! Edmund! No!"

"Cass!" a voice said, but Caspian still struggled against the hands, which now seemed to be shaking him. "Your Majesty! …Caspian! Wake up!"

Caspian opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but the hands held him back. "Cass, wake up," Sarielle said firmly.

"Sarielle?" Caspian gasped.

"Yes, Cass; it's me," she said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. She dipped a cloth in cool water and laid it over his brow: the shivers that had wracked him before were gone and replaced by an unbearable heat. He moved restlessly, trying to find a cool spot on the pallet. He realized it was the only pallet in the room.

"Where am I?" he managed.

"You're in my room," she answered calmly.

"Why—?"

"You have been talking in your sleep," she replied. "I didn't want you to disturb the others. I will watch over you tonight."

Caspian blinked wearily. "I've brought you a lot of trouble."

"It's all in the name of King Edmund," Sarielle said lightly.

Caspian gave a hoarse laugh that turned into a cough. "You're not acting very wisely by helping me," he observed, closing his eyes.

"Perhaps not," he thought he heard Sarielle answer quietly as he fell back asleep.

000

His fever must have broken sometime in the night, because when Caspian awoke the next morning, he no longer felt either cold or over-hot. He was pleasantly warm—too pleasantly warm: he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. His limbs felt heavy, and it took a great deal of effort to turn his head.

Sarielle sat curled up in a corner of the room, her head leaning against the wall, fast asleep. The morning light was already coming in through the chinks in the shutters: the other slaves had let Sarielle sleep in after her long night. Caspian smiled, but a tickle in his throat set him to coughing. Sarielle roused from her sleep and looked over at him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice rough from her sleepless night. She stood and stretched, rolling her shoulders.

"Much better," he answered. Then he paused, looking up at her, standing over him. "Last night—when you woke me up. I thought—" He gave a little laugh. "I thought for a moment you—called me something else. Not Cass."

Sarielle expression was indefinable. "I called you Caspian," she said clearly. Caspian stared up at her, startled. "That _is _your name, is it not? You _are_ the King?"

After a moment, Caspian nodded. "Yes."

Sarielle smiled and shook her head, and for one moment Caspian thought she was going to laugh. Then he realized she was angry. "You—_fool!_" she exclaimed vehemently. Caspian stared up at her in surprise. "Idiot! Of all the people who needed to keep their heads down— And what do you do? You antagonize Gerius… You do realize," she said, turning back to him, "what they will do if they realize who you are?"

"They—wouldn't dare—"

"Wouldn't they?" Sarielle raised her eyebrows at him. "If the master realizes that he _bought _the _Emperor _as a slave—if Gerius realized he _beat_ the King of Narnia! They will expect a swift and ugly retribution as soon as you are returned to power. And they won't risk that. They _will _kill you." She paused. "And probably anybody else they think suspects your identity and will stand on your side instead of theirs."

Caspian gazed at her warily. "You're not going to tell them, are you?" he asked in the silence.

For one moment he was afraid of the answer. Then she heaved a deep sigh. "No, of course not," she answered gruffly, slowly returning to her usual equilibrium. "That's why I took care of you myself. I was afraid that you would say something in your illness that would tip someone off." She stooped to fold the extra blankets Caspian had thrown off during the night.

"But—how did you guess who I was?" With some effort, he attempted to sit up.

Sarielle helped him. "I didn't know for sure that you were the King—not until you spoke in your sleep last night. But I was pretty sure you were hiding your identity. For one thing, I knew you were a sailor, not a stablehand. The knots you used to tie shut the sacks of spices were sailors' knots: I've seen them on wares in the marketplace." She fetched him a cup of water from the cask in the corner and he drank it gratefully. "And then there was Susan's name—you seemed so surprised by it, and said it was Narnian. Yet you had said you were from Galma. And then yesterday I heard rumors about a strange ship sailing about the Islands—they said it looked Narnian, and was trying to remain out of sight, as if the crew were looking for something—or someone. That was when I began to suspect you were—someone of great importance."

Caspian caught her arm. "The ship—did it have purple sails?" he asked urgently.

Sarielle nodded. "And a prow like a dragon."

"It's her!" Caspian exclaimed. "The Dawn Treader. Did they say where it had been spotted?"

Sarielle shook her head. "Only that it hasn't come into harbor within view of Narrowhaven." She paused. "They're looking for you."

"I know." Caspian threw off his blankets. "And I have to get to the ship." He struggled to rise to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Sarielle said sternly, pushing him back.

"I have to find the ship!" Caspian said, but quickly lost the struggle against her.

"Listen," Sarielle said sternly. "It's practically a miracle that the fever broke already, considering everything you went through yesterday. Don't press your luck." She pushed him back down onto the pallet and twitched the blanket back over him. "I don't want to see you up and about until I am sure you won't bring on a relapse. Because this time, it might be the death of you, and then you'll _never _get to your ship. Understood?"

Caspian sighed with impatience, but could feel that she was right: even that slight exertion had turned his limbs to water. "I understand," he capitulated grudgingly.

"Good." Sarielle picked a comb off the mantle and quickly did her hair, which had become messy in the night. "I must go to work now. I will send Susan to check on you in a few hours. Meanwhile, you should try to get some sleep."

Caspian nodded, his eyelids already drooping. "Sarielle?" he said as she reached the door.

"Yes?"

He gave a weak half-smile. "Thank you."

Her expression softened a little. "You're welcome."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

Caspian slept for most of the day. Gerius, to Sarielle's great relief, left him alone. Sarielle didn't know why—perhaps the other overseers had complained about Cass slowing down the work, or maybe the master had issued a warning. In any case, Gerius, though in a rotten mood, did not ask where the new slave was the next morning and never made reference to him all day.

Cass joined them for dinner that evening but left halfway through, his eyelids drooping. He showed up in the kitchen the next morning and asked Sarielle to put him to work. She sat him down at a table in the corner and had him chop vegetables, pretending not to notice when he fell asleep in his chair. The other slaves were happy to see him up and about, especially his three comrades, whose room he had moved back into now that Sarielle was satisfied his fever wouldn't return.

When it was time for dinner that night, all the other slaves headed out of the kitchen, chatting with one another, while Sarielle remained behind to tidy up the counters. Caspian hesitated at the doorway, letting the others pass him. When he was sure everyone was out of earshot, he walked over to Sarielle.

"Has there been any other news of the ship?" he asked her quietly.

She looked up and shook her head. "Just that it is still sailing discreetly around the islands."

Caspian shook his head. "I have to get back to the Dawn Treader," he said plainly. "Will you—help me? I know I shouldn't ask you," he added quickly; "you could put yourself in great danger helping me. But it is of the utmost importance. And if I do get back to the ship, I will be able to do something about the slavery in these islands. I can put an end to it—free all the slaves."

Sarielle took a deep breath. "Yes," she said at last. "I will help you the best I can. If you will promise to free us."

"There's no question about that," Caspian answered wryly. "I would have done so anyway, but having experienced slavery for myself, I have a burning desire to make sure it comes to a speedy end." She was still looking at him, waiting. "I swear that when I am returned to my ship, I will end slavery in all my empire," he said solemnly. Sarielle held out her hand, and after a moment of surprise, Caspian shook it. When he tried to draw his hand back, Sarielle held it still for a moment.

"You are bound to your word in the name of King Edmund," she said almost fiercely, as if she were threatening him. "For the breaking of such a vow, Aslan will punish you." She let go abruptly and turned back to her work. "You had better go to dinner," she continued in her usual bland tone, as if nothing had happened. "And I—will keep a watch out for the ship."

"Thank you," Caspian said, and left her brushing the crumbs off the tables.

**TBC**

**AN**: I know, this is a very short chapter after a very long wait. My apologies! I had my big three-day-long comprehensive exam two weeks ago, and then classes started last week—this semester I'm taking two, teaching two. I'm very busy, so it may be a longish wait between chapters. But I do intend to finish this sucker! This was a good point to stop in the middle of the chapter, so I thought I'd post it rather than make you wait for the rest of the chapter, which was going to be longish anyway.

To those of you in school, good luck in your classes!


	9. Chapter 9

It was nine o'clock the next morning when Telea rushed into the kitchen. "They say the ship's been spotted heading this way!" she announced excitedly. All the kitchen maids began to exclaim and speculate, but Sarielle froze for a moment before looking up, her face schooled into its usual calm.

"It's coming down the south coast," Telea was adding in response to her friends' questions. "It'll be here anytime. Sarielle, can we go out to see it?"

Sarielle gazed at her steadily for a moment before replying. "Don't you think you have more important things to be doing here?" she answered dryly.

Telea rolled her eyes and started to scoff, but Sarielle's stern and unchanging expression intimidated her, and she quailed.

"Think what Gerius or the other overseers would say if they found you shirking your work to watch a boat," Sarielle reminded the serving girls, who turned quietly back to their work. Sarielle paused for a moment, then headed toward the door.

"Where are _you_ headed?" Telea asked, with barely masked suspicion.

"The mention of Gerius reminded me," Sarielle said calmly: "I have let Cass sleep in, but he will be expected to work today, and I must wake him." She waited until Telea had gone grudgingly about her work, then headed down the corridor as calmly as possible to the men's sleeping room.

"Cass!" she said quietly, crouching to shake the young man by the shoulder. "Cass, wake up!"

"Mm? What is it?" he said blearily. He had been much harder to wake, much wearier the last few days—he was certainly not over the aftereffects of his fever yet. Sarielle hoped he had the strength for the exertion she was about to ask of him.

"Cass, your ship has been spotted heading this way," she hissed urgently. "We must go now if we want to flag it down."

Caspian came fully awake and sat up, groping for his shirt. "Which direction is it coming from?"

"East," Sarielle answered, standing and pulling Caspian to his feet. "We'll have to cross the south fields to the shore before it gets here—without anyone seeing."

"We'll make it," Cass said as they headed along the corridor toward the south door.

"We'll have to," Sarielle said grimly. If they were caught—it didn't bear dwelling on.

Just before they reached the outside doors, Sarielle dashed into a storeroom where dry goods were kept and snatched a length of scarlet cloth off of a shelf. They would need something to flag the ship down with. She bundled it up her arms to make it as inconspicuous as possible.

The morning that met their eyes as they opened the outside door was bright and hot. Trying to look relatively nonchalant, they headed down across the wide open hayfields, Caspian a little behind Sarielle as if she were leading him to the place he needed to be working. They were both aware of how very conspicuous they were. It would have been better to have veered left and traveled down along the tree line on the east side of the farm, but that would have taken too long: they could both see the Dawn Treader just offshore, and they needed to get to get the ship's attention before it sailed on and left them to be discovered by the overseers.

But it was already too late for that. "Sarielle!" they heard one of the overseers shout, some distance behind them.

"Don't turn around," Sarielle said quickly. "Pretend we didn't hear him."

"Look!" Caspian exclaimed. "The longboat! They're coming ashore!"

Sure enough, Sarielle could see the boat, looking very small in the distance, headed toward the rocky shore by the edge of the hayfield.

But they didn't have any time to rejoice. Just at that moment, they heard Gerius' voice. "Sarielle!"

One of the lesser overseers they might be able to fool, but Gerius would know they were up to no good. "Run!" Sarielle cried, and they both took to their heels.

"STOP THEM!" Gerius shouted. Sarielle didn't pause to look back and see how close their pursuers were. The two of them pounded down the long slope to the shore, over ground that slowly turned from arable farmland to sandier, rockier ground, trying to keep their feet under them and their pursuers far behind. Over the sound of her own hard breathing, Sarielle thought she heard distant shouts from the longboat. Beside her she could hear Caspian wheezing with effort. They were hurtling downhill, about to pitch forward at any moment. Suddenly, Caspian's legs gave for a moment and he lost his balance, hitting the ground and rolling over a few times with his momentum.

He had clipped his chin when he hit the ground and, slightly dazed, he saw Sarielle shoot past him under the power of her own momentum, skid to a stop, and then bolt back to him.

"Come on!" she gasped, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.

Caspian shook his head to clear it, and stumbling, began running after her down the hill again. They were almost to the beach when Gerius caught up with them.

Something struck Caspian in the back, and he almost went down again. This time he managed to keep his feet under him, but he stumbled to a stop.

"Not so fast," Gerius growled, rather out of breath himself. He hefted a wooden club Caspian had seen him carrying once before, brandishing it menacingly. Caspian, his breath coming in painful rasps, looked around himself for some kind of improvised weapon—an abandoned scythe, a tree branch, anything. But all there was on the ground were large smooth stones of the kind that made up the beach, several yards behind him. Caspian snatched one up, though his legs and arms felt like water.

"That little rock ain't gonna do much, boy," Gerius grunted, and swung at him.

Caspian dodged, but his movements were slower than usual, and the club clipped him in the ribs, knocking him sideways. Caspian fell to one knee and caught himself with his free hand. He didn't have the energy to dodge the next blow, which he knew was coming.

But it never came. There was a twanging noise, and a grunt from Gerius, and Caspian looked up to see a scarlet-fletched arrow embedded in the overseer's chest.

"Oh, good shot!" he heard Sarielle exclaim with unaccustomed enthusiasm.

Caspian's stomach turned over. He slumped over to the side as the world spun dizzily.

**TBC!**

**AN**: I apologize again for the long delays between chapters. School has been pretty hectic the last couple of weeks! Lesson planning, grading 44 papers at a time, doing readings in literature and literary theory, applying for grad schools, revising a paper for a journal, writing an abstract for a conference… A bit too busy to write fanfic! But not too busy to feel guilty about making you wait. Thanks for sticking around-the show's not over yet!


	10. Chapter 10

"Cass? Cass!"

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Caspian, sitting on the ground and still trying to catch his breath, could hear Sarielle's voice, as if from far away or underwater, around the pounding of his blood in his ears. But he didn't have the energy to raise his head and answer her. Another voice, male this time, said something in an urgent tone that Caspian couldn't quite hear, and Sarielle answered, "No, he's not wounded. But he's been ill, and he's still weak."

"Your Majesty?" Someone had taken him by both shoulders. "Caspian? Speak to me, lad."

Blinking, Caspian raised his head, and the face of Drinian swam into focus. The Captain of the Dawn Treader was looking anxious.

Caspian managed a weak smile. "Drinian," he said between gasps. "Am I ever glad to see you."

Drinian gave a short laugh of relief. "We have to go, Sire. Those men look like trouble."

Caspian looked over his shoulder to see two of the overseers running toward them. They had armed themselves with long knives.

"Shall we dispatch them for you?" Rhince said grimly, putting his hand to his sword hilt.

"No," Caspian panted as Drinian and Sarielle helped him to his feet. He still had not caught his breath. "There has been—enough bloodshed." He almost thought Sarielle looked a little disappointed.

"Let us go immediately, then," Drinian replied. The men quickly helped Caspian and Sarielle, now silent once more, into the boat and pushed off. Caspian, still feeling weakened and a little sick from his exertions, couldn't yet feel the relief he knew he should at getting away from Doorn. As the boat pitched on the waves he swayed sideways in his seat, and felt Sarielle grasp his arm, holding him upright as the longboat made its way back toward the Dawn Treader.

He had caught his breath again by the time they reached the side of the ship, and he heard the crew cheering for his return as they made preparations to hoist the longboat. Caspian was only glad that he didn't have to climb the ladder up the side of the ship to get back on board: his limbs still felt like water, and he was almost afraid if he tried to stand up he would fall over.

He did manage to keep his feet when Drinian had helped him out of the longboat and he stood on deck again, despite the usual rolling of the ship. He felt weak and slightly sick to his stomach at the exertion he had made on the beach, but the obvious relief in the crew's faces as he stood among them once more brought a genuine smile to his face.

"Thank you, my friends: you did not give up the search," he exclaimed, in the voice of command he had not used since he had been captured. "I swear to you, we will bring Queen Lucy, King Edmund, Reepicheep and Eustace back to the Dawn Treader!"

The men cheered again, and Drinian took Caspian's elbow and steered him toward the state cabin.

"We'll head back around to Bernstead and regroup," he said calmly. "Meanwhile, you need to rest. And no arguments, your Majesty."

Caspian grinned. "You'll get none from me, Drinian." He paused at the door and put his hand on the man's shoulder. "And thank you again."

Drinian nodded and left Caspian staring around at the cabin he had not occupied since Lucy came aboard. The room reminded him of her now, and of Edmund and Reepicheep. _He _was safe, but he could not be fully grateful until he knew that they were, as well.

Caspian sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, and then realized how very tired he was. Muddy boots on the bed wouldn't hurt anything this once: he _was _the king, after all! Without even turning down the covers, Caspian stretched out on his stomach and was asleep in moments. His last thought was of Lucy's face.

000

When Caspian awoke, it was hours later. The color of the light coming in the windows of the cabin proclaimed it was late afternoon, and the ship, Caspian could see when he sat up stiffly, was in harbor. This then, must be Bernstead. He could see people, men and women, working in the fields, and a low, pillared house on top of the hill which sloped down to the water's edge. There were brightly-colored flowers twining up the pillars, and Caspian could see women in equally bright dresses moving about, arranging a table and laughing as the breeze caught up their long hair. It was an image of the kind of carefree beauty he seemed to not have enjoyed for some time, though he had not been long a slave.

A quiet knock at the door of the cabin brought his attention back to the present, and Drinian entered.

"Ah, you're awake!" the captain exclaimed cheerfully. "I came to tell you that Lord Bern sends his compliments and invites you to dine with him and his family."

Caspian smiled. He had eaten nothing since the evening before, and guessed that much of the weakness he felt now was more a result of his hunger than the morning's exertions. But then he thought of the sight he had had of Lord Bern's land, and frowned once more.

"I would not wish to be rude to anyone who offered us their hospitality," he said stiffly, "but I will not eat at the home of any who keep slaves."

Drinian, who had not been expecting _this_ reaction, stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then his face cleared. "All the people working in Lord Bern's fields are freemen," he assured Caspian.

Caspian stifled a heartfelt sigh of relief. "In that case, please let Lord Bern that I gladly accept his invitation—" Caspian paused mid-sentence. "…Did you say 'Lord _Bern'_?" he asked.

Drinian was grinning. "Yes I did."

Caspian laughed. "You found him, then! The first of the lost lords!"

"It would be more accurate to say that _he _found _us,_" Drinian laughed, "but that story can wait for dinner." He was opening the closet door; he had apparently noticed Caspian's stiffness of movement. "Shall I help you dress, Your Majesty?"

"No!" Caspian said quickly, then schooled his expression into a smile when Drinian turned to look at him in surprise. "No, I can manage; thank you, Drinian," he added more civilly. "Please let Lord Bern know I will be ashore shortly."

Drinian bowed and left the cabin, and Caspian gazed after him for a moment. Why had he refused the captain's help? Why hadn't he wanted Drinian to see the whip marks on his back? It would create a great deal of consternation, generate questions Caspian didn't feel up to answering at the moment. But weariness wasn't the only thing behind his sensitivity about the matter. He realized that he didn't want Drinian to know the depths of degradation he had fallen to as a slave: that the King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands had been beaten by a mere brute like Gerius. It was one thing to be bested in a tournament by a noble knight twice his age; it was something else entirely to be stripped and flogged by a filthy overseer as if he were an unspeaking animal. He hoped Sarielle hadn't mentioned anything of the incident to Drinian or any of the men.

Caspian shook his head. He needed to start getting dressed, or Drinian would be back again, and it would be harder to refuse his help the second time. Slowly, Caspian began pulling off his muddy boots and removed the linen shirt he had not changed since the day they had all left the ship to walk across Felimath. Putting a suitable coat on over a clean shirt was rather a painful exercise, and the coat felt hot and tight on his back when he had it on. But Caspian swallowed his discomfort and went out on deck.

The men were just preparing the longboat to take him to shore. Caspian spotted Sarielle, standing by the rail and watching the proceedings. They nodded to one another, and Caspian stood beside her in silence for a few moments.

"I understand that Lord Bern employs no slaves," Caspian said at last.

Sarielle nodded. "He is a good man."

Caspian looked at her in surprise. "You know him?"

"By reputation only," Sarielle amended. "I am a little acquainted with his housekeeper. He is spoken well of by all those who act in the name of King Edmund. I understand that he has helped some slaves in imminent danger to escape the islands."

Caspian nodded. "Then he is exactly the sort of man we will need to help us in what we plan tonight. I would like you to join us for dinner as well," he added.

Sarielle's brows contracted in surprise. "Me?"

"We will be discussing how to bring an end to slavery in the islands," Caspian explained. "And you understand the subject better than any of us. I would value your input."

For a moment he thought she would refuse, but then she nodded, her face calm. "I would be honored, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty?" Drinian was at his elbow, and the longboat was ready. Caspian handed Sarielle in, then clambered into the boat himself, and they set off for Bernstead.

**TBC**

**AN**: I'm baaaaaack! lol Sorry for the long wait between chapters, but the semester is finally over and I don't have to go back until the beginning of February. And I am determined to finish this thing! So please stay tuned, and please review!


	11. Chapter 11

When they reached the shore, Caspian took the walk up the hill to Lord Bern's house very slowly, Drinian and the men who accompanied him matching their pace to his. Even so, he was tired when he reached the top. But as soon as the formal introductions to Lord Bern, his wife, and his three lively daughters were finished, Lord Bern ensconced his king in a comfortable chair overlooking the small harbor and served his guests a good dinner. Bern was already acquainted with Drinian and his officers, and when Sarielle was introduced to him, he recognized her name, and greeted her with the same respect he greeted the rest of Caspian's crew.

The feast Lord Bern treated them to was a far better meal than Caspian had had for since, since the ship had left Redhaven, before Edmund, Lucy and Eustace had come to them. Sarielle, sitting a few seats away, below Lord Bern's family and Caspian's officers, was characteristically quiet, but everyone else engaged in a lively conversation. Caspian's weariness left him as he ate, and Lord Bern's daughters made very engaging company. They sat in the open air on the terrace overlooking the harbor and the Dawn Treader, where the breeze wafted the scents of exotic climbing flowers to them from the vines the curled round the pillars and from the flowerbeds along the edges of the terrace.

Over the course of the meal, Caspian related to the company how he and his friends had been captured by Pug on Felimath and sold, and of his escape to the Dawn Treader. Though he stressed Sarielle's important role in his escape (her calm expression did not change when the attention of the company was directed toward her in admiration), he left out the experiences he had had while a slave. He merely mentioned that Sarielle had discovered his identity while caring for him when he had fallen ill.

In return, Lord Bern and Drinian told him how they had found one another. When Caspian and the others had failed to appear on the other side of Felimath, Drinian had taken a company ashore to search for them. But they were nowhere to be seen. Not knowing where their king and his companions might have gone, nor who might have taken them, Drinian had made discreet inquiries at the small village on Felimath, but had made no headway. He did not want to put into harbor at Narrowhaven: if the Governor of the Lone Islands were hostile to Narnia, as the kidnapping of Caspian and the others seemed to indicate, one ship's crew was not going to be able to fight their way through the town, which they might have to do if they put into harbor and identified themselves. Instead, they had sailed around the islands at a discreet distance. Finally, on the evening of the second day, the servants at Bernstead had spotted the Dawn Treader off the coast of Avra and Lord Bern, realizing that the ship was Narnian, had himself sailed out and hailed it. Introductions had been made, and the ship's predicament explained. Lord Bern had instantly made Bernstead's harbor and his home open to the crew. He guessed that Caspian and the others had been captured by Pug, whom he knew had been on Felimath the day before, and that the King and his companions had probably already been sold at auction in Narrowhaven. There was a possibility they had been sold to Calormenes, who often traded in the harbor town, but far more likely they had been bought by Doornians for the summer haycutting.

To search for Caspian and the others openly would have been to risk their lives at the hands of the Governor or slaveowners who would not want it known that they had bought and mistreated Narnian royalty. So Lord Bern had sent one of his own ships to Brenn for Narnian reinforcements and advised Drinian to wait.

Drinian, by this time extremely worried about their lost Kings and Queen, not to mention Reepicheep, had been unable to simply remain at Bernstead and do nothing. Instead, he had sailed discreetly around the Lone Islands, hoping beyond hope that the crew would somehow learn something of their companions' whereabouts. Finally, that morning, one of the men had spotted what he swore was a lion standing on the shore below one of the plantations. Drinian, hoping that it was a sign from Aslan and seeing no Doornians on that side of the house, had taken some men ashore. It was when they were paddling toward land that they had spotted Caspian and Sarielle making their way down the hill, and Gerius in pursuit. The rest, of course, was already known to Caspian.

"The question is what to do now," Drinian concluded.

"The reinforcements from Brenn should be arriving any day now," Lord Bern said. "When they come, we can march on the Governor's castle and convince him that it would be better not to try to fight us."

"Delay would not be wise," Sarielle spoke up. Her feminine voice startled the company, who had forgotten she was there. She was the only woman still at the table, Lady Bern having taken herself and her daughters off when the meal was concluded, leaving those who knew what they were talking about to strategize. Sarielle seemed, as usual, unconcerned by the attention. "We must remember that Gerius was shot this morning. As little as I regret his death," she added dryly, "we must think how it will have been received on Doorn. The other overseers saw Gerius killed, in defense of two slaves, by the crew of what it has been rumored in Narrowhaven was a Narnian ship. Suspicions will mostly certainly have been raised. And news travels fast on Doorn. Rumors have already been spreading among servants and slaves about the—recalcitrant new slave Cass at Stoneshore Plantation." Caspian tried to look impassive as he saw the others glancing at him in surprise. "They may already have identified his companions among the slaves that were sold the same day. There is no way to predict how the masters will treat those slaves when they become desperate for answers to the mystery of Gerius's death."

Terrible possible scenarios began playing out in Caspian's mind, as he was sure they were in the minds of the others around the table, who all looked a little dismayed. The thought of the force the slavemasters might use on the others to get information out of them was more than enough to give them pause. Caspian hadn't realized his behavior had been talked of beyond the plantation; more than ever did he regret his initial attitude. It might have put not only his fellow slaves at Stoneshore, but his own friends, in danger.

"Then we must strike as soon as possible," Drinian said, breaking the silence. "We will have to make a show of greater power than we have and distract the Governor and the slaveholders alike. Then Your Majesty can declare the slaves free—and hope that the Doornians do not resist before the reinforcements arrive from Brenn."

Caspian nodded. "We will take them by surprise, first thing in the morning," he said. "Before they have time to become suspicious of our friends."

"Might I suggest," Bern said, "that in the morning we sail straight down the channel between Felimath and Doorn to Narrowhaven? Before we put into harbor, let us run up the King's banner, hang out all the shields, and send as man men to the fighting top as we can. And when we get a clear shot at the open sea, let us run up a few signals. Even if the ships from Brenn have not arrived, let Governor Gumpus think we have a fleet immediately behind us."

Drinian rubbed his hands. "That is an excellent plan, my Lord," he said with a smile.

Caspian agreed. "Let the crew scour the armor this evening in preparation for tomorrow's entrance into Narrowhaven," he added to Drinian.

"And I will send word to my friends in the town to be at the harbor tomorrow morning and to follow my lead," Bern added. "I think I can trust Mr. Claybottom to send the message around discreetly." He must have seen the tense look on Caspian's face, because he added after a moment, "Don't worry, Your Majesty. We will get them back."

Caspian nodded, not trusting his voice. He certainly hoped that Lord Bern was right.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN**: Thank you to those who reviewed and those who are still reading! I'm glad I haven't lost my readership over the hiatus!

Shortish chapter, but there was a lot of thinking to be done in it. I'm really excited to write the next couple of chapters…

Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

Stavrus of Glasswater shivered as he and his companion rowed one of the longboats over to the shore at Bernstead. It was partly from the cool air of the early morning, but more from excitement. He had awoken early with his mind on the coming confrontation in Narrowhaven and the rescue of Queen Lucy and King Edmund, as well as Reepicheep, whom Stavrus, along with all the other sailors, greatly respected. And the Queen's kinsman Eustace, as well—he must also be brought safely back to the ship, though that they would do for the Queen's sake, not for Eustace's.

Stavrus had begun to help with preparations as soon as he was awake and dressed—he had helped to finish scouring the armor, and hanging out the banners and flags on the ship. The second mate had now sent him, Ombar, and Farian ashore to fetch the last of the supplies the Captain had bought at Bernstead. The sun was just rising over the sea and Stavrus, his back to the shore as he pulled at his oar, had to squint against the orange light.

"Sarielle's up early," Ombar commented from the till.

Stavrus craned his head around. Sure enough, Sarielle stood on the dock next to a couple of crewmen, a borrowed shawl wrapped around her and her arms crossed against the chill.

When they had tied the boat up to the dock, Sarielle wordlessly helped the men load the provisions. They had finished and all five crewmen were preparing to climb back in, when she asked, "Might I beg a ride back to the ship with you?"

The sailors glanced at one another—they had had no orders either way about Sarielle from the Captain. But Stavrus immediately answered, "Of course," and offered a hand to help her down into the boat.

He sat facing her as he and Farian rowed back to the Dawn Treader. Her expression was enigmatic as she squinted at the ship. Stavrus wondered what she was thinking. Her face had worn a similarly unreadable expression the morning before, when his crewmates had rowed her and Caspian back to the ship. She had held the King's arm, subtly propping him up in his seat, and gazed at the Dawn Treader as they approached. Stavrus had known then that her look meant something, but he didn't know what.

Stavrus discovered he had been staring at Sarielle: she caught his eye, and they both looked away.

When they had brought her on board the ship for the first time and Caspian had greeted the crew, Sarielle had disappeared down a hold almost immediately. She had apparently headed straight for the galley, because Stavrus had discovered her down there not long after, peeling potatoes for the ship's cook. He felt for her—being in a new place, surrounded by strangers—and decided to make friends

"Hello again," he said quietly, and she looked up. "I'm Stavrus," he said, holding out his hand.

"Sarielle," she answered, wiping her hand off on the dishrag on her lap and shaking his hand. She narrowed her eyes as she gazed at his face. "You're the one who shot Gerius," she observed.

Stavrus looked away. Even though he had saved his king, he was deeply uncomfortable with having killed a man.

"Yes," he replied briefly.

Sarielle must have noticed his discomfort, because she didn't pursue the subject. After a moment, Stavrus spoke on a different topic.

"How did you meet His Majesty?" he asked her.

"We belong to the same master," she replied, bending back over the potatoes.

"You belong to yourself," Stavrus corrected her gently.

She looked up at him—almost startled, he thought. The ghost of a smile appeared on her face. Stavrus smiled back and picked up a potato and a knife. "Did you hear anything about our other companions on Doorn? Where they are?"

Sarielle nodded. "Yes. The girl and the trained mouse were sold to a rich lady in Narrowhaven, and the boy to a farm on the edge of town. Who are they, anyway?" she asked. "The boy and the girl? Are they the King's brother and sister?"

"No—they are two of the kings and queens of old, returned once more to Narnia," Stavrus replied. "King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant."

Sarielle dropped her potato. Stavrus looked up, concerned that she had cut herself. She was staring at him, her paring knife lying forgotten in her hand. Stavrus stooped and picked up the potato, holding it out to her. But she didn't seem to notice. In fact, she didn't seem to be breathing.

"Did you say—King Edmund?" she asked very quietly.

"Yes," he answered slowly, "and Queen Lucy." Sarielle looked around, as if expecting to see the truth written somewhere in the timbers of the ship. "Are you alright?" Stavrus asked, concerned.

Sarielle gave a little exhalation, almost a laugh, rubbed her hand over her mouth, and took the potato back. "I'm fine, thank you," she managed, and put the knife back to the potato again. But she still couldn't peel it; in another moment she was staring about her again, obviously deep in thought. Her expression, subtle as always, was, he thought, one of wonder and deep delight. Perhaps, he thought, she had heard of the Kings of Queens of old before, and was as amazed and delighted as the crew had been when they had first realized who it was they had taken on board. So he smiled at her distraction and returned to peeling potatoes.

Now, riding back to the Dawn Treader in the longboat, Sarielle wore a different expression. Stavrus glanced up at her again surreptitiously, attempting to read her face. She looked determined—determined, and a little grim. He wondered what it was she had steeled herself to do.

Back on the Dawn Treader once more, Sarielle headed over to where the newly-burnished armor was sitting and spoke to the second mate, who was standing beside it. But Stavrus had to help take the provisions down into the hold, and he lost track of her in the bustle of preparations.

000

Caspian slept on shore at Bernstead that night. His sleep was disturbed by worries for his friends, and he awoke in the morning not very refreshed.

He was quiet at breakfast, and rushed through the meal in order to get on board the Dawn Treader as soon as possible. It was better to be doing something than sitting still. It was better still when the men were assembled and Caspian could address them. He related the plan to them: to make a big show of marching into Narrowhaven, to convince the Doornians that they had more ships at their disposal than the Dawn Treader, to march to the castle and overawe Governor Gumpas, to declare the slaves freed, and to locate and rescue their companions. The first step was to impress the Doornians as much as possible with a show of strength: they were all to march into Narrowhaven in grand style, and Lord Bern would the start the cheering among his allies in the town. "If the Lion is with us," Caspian added, "we will be able to overawe the people and convince them to hand over our friends without a struggle."

"Your Majesty," Lord Bern interjected here, "I fear that may be more difficult than anticipated." He held up a piece of paper. "My friend in Narrowhaven has sent to say that suspicions have already been raised by the death of Gerius and your disappearance from Stoneshore. Their Majesties' position in Doorn has become very precarious indeed. I fear that if you declare the slaves free, the slaveholders may revolt against Your Majesty. And we do not have the power among one ship's crew to resist them."

It was a sickening moment. They all looked at one another with pale faces. Then the silence was broken.

"Your Majesty," Sarielle said, stepping forward. She wore a spare breastplate from the ship's armory, and had put a long knife in her belt. "I know which plantations your friends are being held on. If Lord Bern will send an extra boat down the channel, I will secretly approach the houses and sneak your friends onto the boat and back to Bernstead. If it does come to a fight, they at least will be in a more defensible place, and if Your Majesty must retreat to open waters until the ships from Brenn arrive, your friends will be safely with you."

"How will you sneak into each of the houses?" Drinian. "The Doornians know that you escaped Stoneshore with His Majesty and that you are allied with us. The plan itself is good, but I think it would be better to send someone else."

"No one here knows the households of Doorn better than I do," Sarielle replied. "I know where the back entrances are located, I know how to travel unnoticed between the houses of Narrowhaven and to the plantations of Doorn, and I know the ways a slave might sneak out of her master's house, if she had anywhere to go. Furthermore, the slaves of Doorn know and trust me. They know that I act in the name of King Edmund, and they will follow my instructions."

Drinian opened his mouth to answer, but Caspian caught his arm. "She's right, Drinian. She is the best person to send. Stavrus," he added, spotting a serious-minded young sailor in his crew, "you will go with her. Make sure she and our royal companions return safely to the boat."

Stavrus saluted. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Meanwhile," Caspian continued, "our march through Narrowhaven will act as a diversion. We must distract the slaveholders enough that they will not notice Sarielle's presence." He raised his voice. "Let everything be as trim and scoured as if it were the morning of the first battle in a great war between noble kings with all the world looking on," he commanded. "Let them see that it is noble Narnians and servants of the Lion that they defy."

The men cheered, and then hurried to their various duties. Caspian climbed down to the main deck and approached Sarielle.

"Be careful," he said, putting his hand on her arm. She nodded. He turned to Stavrus. The tall, lean sailor with dark blond hair he knew to be a good soldier and a serious-minded young man. He was both brave and responsible, and the best man for the job. "Stavrus: the safety of King Edmund, Queen Lucy, Eustace, and Sarielle are your first concern. You are to protect them with your life."

Stavrus did not hesitate. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a nod.

Caspian addressed them both. "May the Lion be with you—and with us all," he added grimly.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN:** Wow, thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I should take a hiatus more often! No, no, I'm kidding, I promise. :) But it has been very encouraging.

**SpangleyPony**: You are very right. About four hours before you reviewed, I suddenly realized that I had never shown the "THAT King Edmund!" revelation scene for Sarielle. Hence the flashback in the first section of this chapter—a flashback to a scene that I really SHOULD have put before Caspian woke up on the Dawn Treader, and followed up with Caspian making sure Sarielle was informed of the identities of his companions. Mea maxima culpa! This is what comes of posting the very first draft of a piece of writing online chapter by chapter as you go! If everybody would be so kind as to imagine that Caspian made sure Sarielle knew who it was they were rescuing before that whole "strategies over dinner" scene last chapter, I would be very grateful. :)

In other news, I would have gotten this chapter posted earlier, but I've been busy the last few days—partly, with seeing The Voyage of the Dawn Treader on Saturday afternoon! I really enjoyed it, and though it had its faults, the only spoiler-free observation I will make is that the more I think about it, the more pleased I am with what they did with Eustace's character (and his relationship with Reepicheep). That's the one thing this particular set of adaptations has done excellently from the beginning: character expansion (from the bare bones Lewis gave) and development. The movie really was great, and I can't wait till it comes out on DVD.

You guys have been great! **Please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

In a short amount of time, Caspian and Bern's men were ready aboard the Dawn Treader, and Sarielle and Stavrus, along with two of Bern's men, were in one of the Bern's sailing boats. The Dawn Treader set out around the north side of Avra and down into the channel between Doorn and Felimath, signaling toward their nonexistent allies when they came in sight of Doorn. Sarielle's boat went around the south side of Avra and reached the channel a little behind the larger ship. Bern's two sailors followed the larger ship at a discreet distance.

They pulled the smaller boat up at a little dock east of the large harbor of Narrowhaven, where the Dawn Treader was putting in. The four of them began to unload the baskets of produce they had brought from Bernstead: the few Doornians working near the dock, already distracted by the sight of the Dawn Treader, paid them no heed, assuming that they were bringing the vegetables to market.

The sound of a trumpet echoed across the water from the harbor. The Dawn Treader had put in to shore, and Caspian was alighting at the head of his troops. All the Doornians at the smaller dock, discussing the ship amongst themselves, headed off in the direction of the harbor. Sarielle and Stavrus glanced at each other and quiet slipped away while Bern's sailors continued nonchalantly unloading the produce.

Sarielle, who had taken the lead, was walking in a business-like but unhurried manner, and Stavrus imitated her attitude. She led him around the side of a shipping building and down a back alley. The morning had warmed up considerably since the sunrise, and the shade of the alley felt refreshingly cool—especially when they both shed the cloaks they had been wearing to hide their breastplates. Stavrus buckled on his quiver as they went, and drew his short bow out, so as to be ready.

Sarielle and Stavrus wound around between the houses and down the alleys, checking around corners as they went. The alleys were practically deserted—everyone had gone the harbor to see Caspian and his men process from the ship to the palace. Even from this distance, they could hear the sound of the crowd. So far, Caspian and Bern's distraction was working perfectly.

"There's Lord and Lady Woodplank's house," Sarielle said quietly, indicating a well-cared for, elegant-looking house with a walled garden in the back. "That's where Lucy and the mouse are. There are two exits into the back garden," she continued, pointing them out: "the main door for the family, and a smaller door for the gardeners. Lady Woodplank's bedroom window and balcony look over the garden, so we have to be quick." Stavrus nodded.

Checking both ways, the two of them ran over to the part of the garden wall closest to the building, where they would be least likely to be seen from the upstairs windows. Stavrus, sticking his bow back into the quiver, linked his hands together and gave Sarielle a step up, then when she was over, took a running leap at the wall and grabbed the top. He pulled himself up and then dropped quickly and quietly over the other side. Sarielle was already at the servants' door, which was unlocked. They both hurried inside.

The small, dark room just inside the door was full of gardening implements and flowerpots, and smelled of soil and mulch. Stavrus could hear voices in the next room. Sarielle quietly opened the door and peeked into what Stavrus assumed was the kitchen. He strained his ears to hear. A couple of people were speaking in low voices, and he could hear someone coming down the stairs: there were footsteps, and a loud female voice, getting louder as the speaker approached the kitchen.

Sarielle quickly shut the door. "Lady Woodplank," she whispered to Stavrus.

"If I told her once, I told her a hundred times!" Lady Woodplank's voice was audible through the door. "Don't use that polish on the dining table; it leaves a film. But did she listen?" She didn't give her interlocutor time to answer. "No, of course not. So no matter what Narva tells you, you must use Calormene polish on that table. And use circular, clockwise strokes. Trican! _There_ you are! Have you planted those twinspurs yet?"

"Not yet, my lady."

"Well get to it! I want them ready in time for my dinner party tomorrow night. Lucy!" she barked.

Sarielle and Stavrus exchanged glances.

"Yes, my lady?" Lucy's voice answered calmly.

"Go fetch the glassware from the storeroom and polish it with vinegar and brown paper," Lady Woodplank ordered. "And I don't want to see your face upstairs again until you're done!"

"Yes, my lady."

There was a pause and the sound of an opening door, and then Lady Woodplank said, without bothering to lower her voice, "I don't like the look of that chit. There's something insolent about the way she answers her betters. I've half a mind to turn her over to Peris, if he's so curious about where she came from! He's never shown half the interest in my al fresco lunches that he has in that plain little slave girl and her disobedient friend at Stoneshore!" She gave a brittle laugh. "I told him, if he wanted to know something, we could just beat it out of her ourselves, but no, he wanted to do the questioning. Don't you drop those glasses, girl!" she suddenly shouted.

"No, my lady," Lucy answered. There was a clink of glassware as she set the box down on the table.

"Trican, are you nearly finished putting on your boots?" Lady Woodplank added petulantly.

"Yes, my lady," Trican answered patiently, and the door of the storage room opened.

Sarielle had the presence of mind to move back out of the light as Trican stepped through the door. Nonetheless, when he spotted her, the gardener jumped.

"What is it, Trican?" Lady Woodplank's impatient voice rang through the open door. Sarielle shook her head at the slave. Stavrus' hand went to the knife at his belt. Trican stared at Sarielle for a long moment.

"Trican!"

"Nothing, my lady," he answered briefly. "Just some spiders."

Stavrus closed his eyes in relief and let go of the knife hilt.

"Spiders? Ugh!" Lady Woodplank exclaimed. "Kill them immediately! And shut the door before they crawl all over the kitchen! I will _not _have spiders in—" Trican closed the door on her voice.

"What are you doing here, Sarielle?" Trican whispered.

"We have to get Lucy out of here," Sarielle answered, indicating Stavrus, whom Trican had not yet seen. Stavrus nodded to him, but Trican didn't return the greeting. On the other side of the door, Lady Woodplank was saying, "…Mrs. Pennyfeather said there was going to be a big to-do at the harbor today, and I should come, but I said No, I'm going to keep an eye on my slaves and make sure they have the house ready for the dinner party! I must have the laziest slaves in town..."

"This has something to do with you and that slave that escaped on a boat from Stoneshore, doesn't it?" Trican asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Trican," Sarielle said solemnly, putting her hand on his arm, "King Edmund has returned."

Trican stared at her for a moment. (Lady Woodplank: "…That dreadful Smith creature says her Muria never breaks the glassware, but I must have the most butterfingered slaves in Narrowhaven…")

"What do you need me to do?" Trican asked.

000

A few minutes later, when Lady Woodplank finally left the kitchen, Trican opened the storage room door.

"Lucy, love, could you come help me with this a moment?" he said.

"Of course, Trican," Lucy said, and walked into the storage room.

"Your Majesty," Stavrus said as Sarielle shut the door behind her.

Lucy jumped and peered at him in the gloom. After a moment, she exclaimed "Stavrus!" in delight. Stavrus was impressed that she had remembered his name; he was pretty sure she had only heard it once, when Caspian had introduced some of the crew to her and her brother. "Oh, it's _so _good to see you!"

"We've come to sneak you out of here," Stavrus explained, gesturing to Sarielle.

Lucy gave Sarielle a smile and a nod, but she added, "I'm not going without Reepicheep."

"Where is he?" Sarielle asked.

"In a cage in Lady Woodplank's bedroom," Lucy answered, her expression darkening. "I've only spoken to him once since we arrived."

"How are we going to get to him?" Stavrus asked Sarielle.

"I'll fetch him," Lucy answered.

"Lady Woodplank said she didn't want to see you upstairs until you'd finished polishing the glassware," Trican reminded her.

"Then I'll have to make sure she doesn't see me," Lucy replied seriously.

The other three looked at one another. "She has the best chance," Trican said at last. "She's lighter on her feet than me, and it would be worse if Lady Woodplank caught either of you two in the house."

Stavrus finally nodded. "If you get in trouble, Your Majesty, give a good loud scream, and we'll come to get you." He indicated his bow and quiver. Lucy nodded. "Good luck."

"I'll be right back," she replied, and slipped back into the kitchen again.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN: **This chapter took me all day to figure out. Thank you to everybody who reviewed! **Please review**, and I'll attempt to work out how I'm getting Lucy through the house… lol


	14. Chapter 14

"I have to go, or they'll get suspicious," Trican whispered as the door shut behind Queen Lucy, and slipped out into the garden.

"There's something I should probably warn you about," Stavrus whispered as Trican shut them in darkness again. "Reepicheep isn't a trained mouse, like the Doornians think. He's a _talking_ mouse. A person. Just as intelligent as you or me." Sarielle raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I just thought I should warn you so you didn't offend him when Queen Lucy brings him down."

"Are there many—um—talking animals in Narnia?" Sarielle asked slowly.

Stavrus nodded. "Yes, quite a few. And dwarves, and fauns, and dryads and naiads—a lot of magical folk." Stavrus frowned at Sarielle in thought for a few moments. "What did you mean when you told Trican that King Edmund had returned?" he finally asked. "Why didn't you say something about Lucy—and why did it convince him?"

So Sarielle explained it to him. "So you see," she concluded, "we'd never heard anything about any of the other kings and queens of old, so the name Lucy wasn't familiar to him. But anyone who is loyal to the name of King Edmund will help us."

Stavrus frowned, trying to take it all in. It explained Sarielle's reaction the day before when he had told her about King Edmund. "How do the other slaves know you're not just making it up?" he finally asked.

"I am—I _was_—the housekeeper of a large plantation. I'm well known among the slaves on the island, because I often went into Narrowhaven or nearby plantations and transacted business on behalf of my master. I was a responsible slave, so the slaveholders trust me—or _did_, until this business with Cass—uh, His Majesty," she corrected herself. "And the slaves all know from the people who have worked under me that I am loyal to the name of King Edmund. They will listen to me."

Stavrus was silent for a few moments, digesting all this. "I wonder what Queen Lucy thought when she first heard about the prophecy?"

000

Lucy, sneaking up the back stairs from the kitchens to the living area of the house, was actually thinking about the same thing. Specifically, she was remembering when Narva, one of her fellow slaves in the Woodplank house, had warned her about the housekeeper, Enia.

Enia had begun ordering Lucy around the moment she arrived at the house. "Clean off that table! And then get to work chopping the carrots. I expect them to be finished by the time I return!"

Lucy, already distressed by her experience in the slave market, found her hands shaking as she brushed the crumbs off of the kitchen table and picked up the basket of carrots. When she placed them on the edge of the sink, her shaking hands and wandering attention caused her to drop the basket. The carrots scattered all over the floor.

"Here," one of the other slaves said, helping her to gather them back up again. "You run the pump and I'll clean them off for you."

Lucy thanked her and began pumping the handle. The other girl, a few years older than Lucy, grabbed a brush and briskly scrubbed the carrots clean, her skilled hands completing the task far faster than Lucy's would have. "I'm Narva," she added. Lucy introduced herself, forgetting to give herself a pseudonym. But Narva didn't seem to notice anything unusual about the name.

Narva seemed to divine that Lucy was new to slavery. "Try to do whatever Enia tells you," she advised. "If you don't know how to do something, or where things are kept, come and ask me, or Trican over there." She gestured to the gardener, currently sweeping up soil by the garden door. "But don't trust Enia. She is not loyal to King Edmund."

Lucy's hands slipped off the pump handle. "What?"

Narva seemed surprised at Lucy's reaction, and gestured to the pump. Lucy numbly began working the handle again as Narva explained the expression. "Enia doesn't care about loyalty to other slaves," she concluded. "She's too busy trying to get in Lady Woodplank's good graces. She only wants to protect herself."

Lucy was silent, mulling over what the other slave had told her as Narva finished washing the carrots and pulled out a cutting board and some knives. "What is Lady Woodplank like?" she finally asked as they began chopping up the vegetables. Lucy discovered her hands had stopped shaking.

"She seems like a harmless, garrulous busybody," Narva answered, swiftly dicing a carrot. "But she's spiteful. And she feels no compunction over beating her slaves. Or at least, watching while Lord Woodplank beats them," she amended. "Just don't let her catch you upstairs unless you have received specific orders to go there from her or Enia."

These words in particular rang in Lucy's ears as she crept up the stairs, a large covered basket in her hand. She had to be silent and unseen by either Lady Woodplank or Enia if she wanted to get herself and Reepicheep out of the house.

Reepicheep was kept in a cage in Lady Woodplank's boudoir. Lucy had only seen him twice since they had arrived. The first time was the very afternoon they had been bought, when Lady Woodplank had made her dust the upper rooms after finishing with the carrots. Having been left alone to complete her work, Lucy managed to speak with her friend for several minutes. He was very indignant at the treatment he had received, but was more worried about her. The second time she saw him was a week later. Lady Woodplank's personal dresser was ill, and she had realized that Lucy knew something about fine clothing (though she didn't know that Lucy knew this because she herself had once been a queen). So Lucy was called in to help Lady Woodplank prepare for a party. She had not been able to exchange words with Reepicheep that time, but they had both been very glad to see each other. Lucy had thought Reepicheep seemed thinner, and his fur not as well kempt as it usually was. She had not seen Reepicheep or heard anything about him since.

"Enia!" Lady Woodplank's stentorian voice, coming from the dining room, made Lucy jump. "Come here immediately!"

"Yes, my lady," Enia replied from a nearby room, and Lucy sped down the hall so as to be out of sight when the housekeeper emerged.

She saw no one else as she made her way swiftly and quietly up the last steps and into Lady Woodplank's boudoir. Reepicheep, sitting on the floor of his cage, had his back to her, and did not turn around as she shut the door.

"Reep!" she whispered.

He spun about. "Lucy!" he exclaimed, rushing forward to grasp the bars of the cage.

He looked even thinner and more unkempt than he had before, but Lucy didn't have time to dwell on that. "We have to escape!" she whispered. "Where's the key to the cage?"

"Lady Woodplank wears it on a chain around her neck," Reepicheep answered disgustedly. "But," he added, "if you can give me my sword, I think I may be able to pick the lock."

Lucy found the small sword, placed well out of reach of Reepicheep's cage, and handed it to him. While he stuck it in the lock and endeavored to maneuver it into position, Lucy stood by the door and listened for any movement in the corridor, fidgeting with impatience.

"That's it!" Reepicheep exclaimed as the lock clicked and the cage door swung open.

"Good! Now get in the basket!" Lucy said, opening the top.

Reepicheep stopped in his tracks and regarded the basket with loathing. "Your Majesty—"

"Reep, if I get caught freeing you, there'll be trouble. We have to get down to the garden door—one of the sailors has come to get us out!"

Reepicheep conceded and climbed into the basket, muttering something about it being against his pride as a gentlemouse to hide while a lady was in danger.

Lucy checked the hall, and seeing no one, slipped out of the room and down the stairs. There was still the first floor corridor and one more staircase to go, and they were home free.

"And what are _you _doing up here, Miss?"

Lucy spun around, automatically holding the basket behind her as she faced Lady Woodplank. She felt the basket lighten suddenly.

"I'm—uh—" Lucy tried desperately to think of a good excuse for being out of the kitchen.

"She was trying to catch _me_, Your Ladyship!" piped a voice from one of the doorways behind Lucy.

"Enia!" Lady Woodplank screeched. "The trained rat is loose!"

Reepicheep drew himself up to his full height of two feet. "I, Madam," he replied coldly, "am a _mouse_."

Enia and two footmen came racing up the stairs. Reepicheep scampered through the dining room, across the newly cleaned table, and over to perch on the windowsill. Enia, the footmen, and Lady Woodplank raced after him, and Lucy turned and fled down the stairs. She realized what Reepicheep had done: made a diversion, enabling her to escape.

On the stairs, Lucy passed the few servants who had still been in the kitchen, all of whom were running the other way to see the fun.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed as she yanked the garden door open.

Stavrus and Sarielle jumped. "Where's Reepicheep?" Stavrus asked in bewilderment.

"He's making a diversion. He'll get out another way," Lucy panted as she headed for the ladder Trican had placed against the garden wall for them.

"Trican!" Sarielle said, grabbing the gardener's arm as Stavrus clambered over the garden wall into the alley and helped Lucy down. "I didn't like the sound of what Lady Woodplank said about Peris' interest in Lucy. Will you escort her down to the smaller dock?"

Trican nodded. "Certainly." He and Sarielle clambered over the wall themselves. Above them, they could hear Lady Woodplank shouting something at her servants.

"When you get to the dock, there will be a boat there with two sailors who serve Lord Bern," Sarielle told Lucy and Trican quickly. "Tell them we sent you."

"Good luck!" Lucy said, shaking hands with Stavrus and Sarielle before racing with Trican down toward the docks.

"Who's Peris?" Stavrus asked as he and Sarielle headed toward the edge of town.

"He's the Governor's deputy," Sarielle said, "and he's a very cruel and dangerous man. If he's interested in King Caspian's escape from Stoneshore, and in King Edmund and Queen Lucy, we may have some trouble getting King Edmund away safely."

"I hope King Caspian doesn't run into him," Stavrus said worriedly as they turned down a narrow alley.

"He's probably run into him already," Sarielle answered darkly. They moved on in silence.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN:** Thanks to all my reviewers, and sorry about the long wait between chapters! I was very busy last week—partly in visiting friends who were home very briefly from grad school. Today, the rest of my family went back to work, so I had the house to myself and could get a little more done. Even so, this chapter was hard to write!

**Please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

The sun beat down on the Dawn Treader as it sailed down the channel between Doorn and Felimath. Caspian felt hot in his armor, and the sunlight shining off of the armor of his men was nearly blinding when they turned the right way. As they approached the jetty at Narrowhaven, Caspian saw that a large crowd had gathered—Mr. Claybottom had indeed done his work, and all of Lord Bern's friends in the town had come to support them.

They advanced from the harbor through the town to the sound of shouts, trumpets, and bells that rang from some parts of the town. Bern's friends were at first the only welcoming citizens, but eventually the excitement of a royal parade caught up a good deal of the town in its wake, and the streets began to fill with excitement.

Lord Bern directed them straight through town and to the gates of the small castle where Governor Gumpas resided. They stopped before the gates, and Caspian's trumpeter blew a blast and called for the gates to be opened to the King of Narnia. A very slovenly-looking man opened the gate. He seemed confused at seeing troops in flashing armor, and reluctant to let them in: he seemed to have standing orders not to let anyone in to see the Governor. But Caspian's troops easily overpowered him and entered the courtyard.

The soldiers who sprang up from their various seats, startled from their early morning ale, and stumbled out of doorways wiping their mouths, looked nearly as slovenly as the man at the door, but they were all armed and good-sized men. Caspian realized that he could give them no time to think.

"Where is the captain?"

One man stepped forward. "I am, more or less, if you know what I mean," he answered.

He didn't seem terribly belligerent, so Caspian decided to start in strong, but get them on his side. "It is our wish," he said, "that our royal visitation to our realm of the Lone Islands should, if possible, be an occasion of joy and not of terror to our loyal subjects. If it were not for that, I should have something to say about the state of your men's armour and weapons. As it is, you are pardoned. Command a cask of wine to be opened that your men may drink our health. But at noon tomorrow I wish to see them here in this courtyard looking like men-at-arms and not like vagabonds. See to it on pain of our extreme displeasure."

As the captain gaped at him, Bern shouted, "Three cheers for the king!" and the soldiers, looking forward to the wine, joined in the shouting. Caspian left most of his men in the courtyard, and took Drinian, Bern, and four soldiers into the main hall of the castle.

The hall was covered in dust, the walls with tattered, moth-eaten hangings so faded that it was impossible to tell what the designs or original colors had once been. At the end of the hall was a long table covered in papers. Behind it sat a grey-haired man with sickly yellowish skin that made him look like he sat behind that table all day every day and never set foot outside. He wore clothing that had once been very fine and fancy with embroidery, fine metal clasps, and fountains of lace. Unfortunately, it was now in much the same shape as the castle hangings. On either side of Gumpas sat secretaries, in almost equally moth-eaten but far less fancy clothing. They all seemed very busy with something, though with what Caspian could not imagine.

As Caspian and his men marched in, Gumpas glanced up and said automatically, "No interviews without appointments except between nine and ten p.m. on second Saturdays."

Caspian nodded to Drinian and Bern. They strode forward, each picked up one end of the table, and tossed it to one side of the room. Then they picked up Gumpas out of his chair and deposited him, kneeling on the floor, before the chair, which Caspian then took, laying his naked sword across his knees. The secretaries, who had jumped to their feet in surprise, backed away and stared with wide eyes and exclamations of shock.

"My Lord," Caspian said sternly, "you have not given us quite the welcome we expected. I am the King of Narnia."

"Nothing about it in the correspondence," Gumpas answered, his tone halfway between wheedling and indignation. "Nothing in the minutes. We have not been notified of any such thing. All irregular. Happy to consider any applications—"

"And we are come to enquire into your Sufficiency's conduct of your office," continued Caspian. "There is one point especially on which I require an explanation." He fought to keep his tone even and his temper under control as he came to the point:  
Why have you permitted this abominable and unnatural traffic in slaves to grow up here, contrary to the ancient custom and usage of our dominions?" A couple of the secretaries withdrew silently and left the room.

"Necessary, unavoidable," said his Sufficiency. "An essential part of the economic development of the islands, I assure you. Our present burst of prosperity depends on it."

"What can you do with slaves that you cannot just as well do with hired servants and farmhands?" Caspian asked, keeping calm.

"Your Majesty's tender years," said Gumpas, with what was meant to be a fatherly smile, "hardly make it possible that you should understand the economic problem involved. I have statistics, I have graphs, I have—"

Caspian barely managed to remain in the chair. "Tender as my years may be," he said coldly, "I believe I understand the economics of the slave trade from within far better than your Sufficiency. It produces more money for the plantation owners, who pay their poor workers no wages, and more money for filth such as Pug, but at the cost of human dignity, freedom, and wellbeing. The profits are not worth the expenditure. It must be stopped."

"But that would be putting the clock back," gasped the governor. "Have you no idea of progress, of development?"

For a moment, he had sounded rather like Eustace. "I have seen them both in an egg," replied Caspian. "We call it 'Going Bad' in Narnia. Slavery must stop."

"I can take no responsibility for any such measure," said Gumpas.

"Very well, then," answered Caspian, "we relieve you of your office. My Lord Bern, come here." Bern knelt before the King. "Do you, Lord Bern, swear to bear true allegiance to the Crown of Narnia?"

"I so swear," Bern replied.

"And will you govern the Lone Islands in accordance with the old customs, rights, usages and laws of Narnia?"

"I will."

"I think we have had enough of governors," Caspian observed. "I hereby invest you with the title of Lord Bern, Duke of the Lone Islands." Gumpas was still gaping at the two of them. "Gumpas," Caspian addressed him, "I forgive you your _in_sufficient rule of these Islands. But before noon tomorrow you and yours must be out of the castle, which is now the Duke's residence.

"Look here, this is all very well," said one of Gumpas's secretaries, a younger man than some of the others. "But suppose all you gentlemen stop playacting and we do a little business. The question before us really is—"

They _were_ in some sense playacting, Caspian reflected, even while his temper rose at the affront of being addressed so by such a man. They were pretending to have the power to back up their words with steel: all the solemn and formal show they had put on today, the scoured armor, the trumpets, had all been to this end. But on the other hand, they were in the process of abolishing slavery entirely in the dominions of Narnia. And except perhaps for the overthrow of his murdering uncle, Caspian had never been so serious about anything in his life.

"The question is," the Duke interrupted before Caspian could injure his dignity by rising from his chair, "whether you and the rest of the rabble will leave without a flogging or with one!"

The secretary fell silence, but smoldered angrily at them.

"Are there any horses to be had in this castle?" Caspian enquired of another secretary, who did not seem as averse as some of the others to the change of government.

"They are few and ill-groomed, Your Majesty, but they are at your service."

"Go and have them saddled immediately," Caspian ordered, and as the servant left the hall, he stood and walked with Drinian back toward the courtyard.

"That went better than I expected," he murmured in an undertone. "Gumpas was disposed of easily enough.

The newly-created Duke still looked concerned. "It is not Gumpas that worries me, Sire," he said slowly. "Gumpas is a figurehead who wields little actual power in the islands. The man who really rules here is named Peris."

Caspian frowned. "I think I heard the name before. What is he like?"

"Evil, if ever a man were so," Bern answered seriously. "The reports of the things he has done to those who have crossed him make a man's blood run cold. He has the plantation owners in the palm of his hand, and thus has much to lose if slavery is abolished here. He is the only one who can control the Doornian soldiers, and if I'm not mistaken, we are likely to run into them all before the morning is over."

Caspian set his mouth in a stern line. "Let us hope, then, that Sarielle and Stavrus complete their mission and return Lucy and Edmund to the ship before we must retreat," he said grimly.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN:** This chapter is not in great detail, partly because this is a scene that Lewis actually described in Chapter Four of the book, and I didn't want to either reword or transpose the whole thing. Some parts, such as a bit of the dialogue, I simply had to copy directly. Such are the trials of fanfiction.

You might have also noticed that I've changed some of the Lone Islanders' motivations for slavery. In the book, slaves were mostly just exported from the Islands. In this AU, a good number are exported, but a large number are also "employed" by the Doornians themselves—thus, the most powerful Doornians have a much higher stake in not letting the slave trade be abolished.

PS: For those of you who, like me, have been having trouble with the popup ads on this site requiring you to take a survey or something before viewing the site, I've discovered that there IS a way to get around this. If you google "fanfiction dot net ad blocker", it brings up a page that you can visit that will block the ads on the site for 24 hours. This of course means that you have to basically visit that page first every day you want to sign on to ff dot net, but it's better than nothing. I understand that ff dot net needs to have some ads to support the site, but those survey things that you can't get to go away unless you give them your info, are the OUTSIDE of enough. :(

**Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

Sarielle led Stavrus out to the very edge of town. There were more open spaces here: fewer quiet, narrow back alleys for them to sneak through unnoticed. Eventually they were scurrying down an alley between the last buildings in the town and a rock cliff that rose immediately behind them and marked the edge of Narrowhaven. Where this cliff finally veered away and the view opened up, Stavrus could see one of the last buildings that could be considered part of the town: a large plantation house like that at Stoneshore, with fields stretching out behind it.

Keeping out of sight of the windows as much as possible, Sarielle led Stavrus around the back of the house toward the servants' quarters. Stavrus kept glancing around, expecting to see someone working in the fields or around the house, but the place looked surprisingly deserted.

Sarielle stopped him by a door and set her ear to the wood. Very faintly, Stavrus could hear voices within.

"The question is, what is to be done?" a young man said.

"There's nothing we _can_ do," another voice replied. "If the master—"

"Leo's right: there are more of us than the master," someone growled.

"But we're not as well armed as Peris' men, Farian," the second voice responded a little sharply. "If it comes to a fight, they _will _win."

"And when they do, it will be harder for the other slaves on other plantations," someone else added. "It would not be acting in the name of King Edmund."

Sarielle nodded to Stavrus, and pulled open the door.

Everyone in the room looked up, appearing startled. Sarielle and Stavrus stood in the doorway of a large, low-ceiled kitchen with stucco walls. The bright morning sunlight was shining dimly in through small windows on the crowd of slaves of all shapes and sizes gathered in the room. Some sat on benches or chairs around the central work table, but most were standing, and all were staring at their unexpected guests.

"Sarielle!" an older man exclaimed, and stepped forward as the rest of the slaves murmured in surprise. "It is good to see you."

"Thalius," Sarielle answered, shaking his proffered hand. "Where is King Edmund?"

Someone in the crowd said, "King _Edmund?_" in amused disbelief, but then a voice spoke up.

"Here," Edmund said, pushing out to the front of the group.

"Your Majesty!" Stavrus exclaimed in relief.

"Stavrus!" Edmund grinned and clapped the soldier on the arm. "I can't say how good it is to see you."

The rest of the slaves were still staring in shock. "King Edmund?" another slave said. "That's Cornelius."

Edmund turned to face them. "No," he said clearly, "I am Edmund." He paused, saw their blank expressions, and gave his full title: "King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table."

There was a stunned silence.

"_That's_ why Peris was so interested in him!" someone exclaimed.

"Sarielle…?" Thalius said hesitantly.

"Thalius, I wouldn't lie," Sarielle said, taking hold of his arm and looking him directly in the eye. "Not to you. Not about this."

Edmund, Stavrus saw, was smiling at one young man in particular: one who was staring at him with wide eyes and a smile of wonder on his face. The young slave stepped forward in the silence and knelt. "Your Majesty," he said.

There was a shuffling movement, and in a moment, the rest of the slaves had knelt as well.

Stavrus grinned.

They didn't have long to enjoy the moment. The whole room looked up in alarm as bells began to ring somewhere in the town, and trumpets blew. This was not the joyful noise of a town welcoming its monarch: it was an alarm being sounded. There were exclamations of dismay around the room.

"Oh _no._"

"Peris!"

"He'll be coming for the King!"

"Caspian!" Stavrus heard Sarielle say.

"You have to get out. _Now,_" Stavrus ordered the slaves. "There's a boat down at the smaller dock that will take you on board: tell the sailors we sent you. Everyone out! Now!" He held open the door.

The slaves, exclaiming with fright and excitement, streamed out of the plantation house and headed in the direction of the channel, Thalius leading them. "Keep to the back alleys, out of sight. And stay together!" Stavrus shouted to them.

Edmund, having paused to make sure that an older woman had a young man on either side to help her along in case she faltered, was one of the last ones out. Sarielle had grabbed the arm of a young woman hurrying past.

"Nia!" she said desperately. "Where's Leo?"

Nia stared at her in surprise for a moment, dismay dawning on her face. "In—in the courtyard," she stammered.

Without a word, Sarielle turned and ran back into the kitchen.

"Sarielle!" Stavrus shouted. He turned back to Edmund. He had sworn both to get Edmund out_ and_ to protect Sarielle. Now Sarielle had forced him to decide between them.

"Here," he said, drawing his sword and handing it to the young King. Edmund, he knew just by looking at him, could protect himself—and others. "Make sure they get to the dock," he said, gesturing toward the slaves.

Edmund nodded, and Stavrus turned and ran after Sarielle, shouting for her to stop.

She obviously knew where she was going: Stavrus had difficulty following her as she sped around corners and through hallways. Finally he burst after her into the sunlight of the inner court of the house.

The courtyard, far from looking like a peaceful and restful garden, more nearly resembled a desert. There were a few patches of brown grass in the dirt, and rusted farm implements and broken crates leaned against the walls. Sarielle had run to a young man with sandy blond hair who was kneeling in the middle of the courtyard, his neck and wrists confined in a low pillory.

"Leo!" she exclaimed in distress, dropping to her knees and putting her hands on either side of the prisoner's face.

He slowly turned his head to squint at her in the bright sunlight. "Sarielle?" he rasped.

"We have to get you out!" she said, and began glancing around wildly. "Where's the key?"

She was demonstrating far more emotion for this young man than Stavrus had ever seen her display, even when he had first mentioned King Edmund to her. To his surprise, Stavrus felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Stavrus!" she said as her ran up to her. "Please help me! We have to find the key. …He's my brother."

"Sarielle," Leo said again, and swallowed hard. "The master has the key."

"Here," Stavrus said, picking up an axe that was leaning against the courtyard wall. "Sarielle, stand back."

As he had hoped, the rusted padlock gave way after three good strikes, and Sarielle pulled the pillory open as an alarm bell began clanging somewhere nearby. Someone had realized the slaves had escaped.

Sarielle and Stavrus each ducked their heads under Leo's arms and half carried, half dragged him back through the slaves' quarters and out of the house, moving as fast as they could toward the dock.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN**: Short, I know. But I wanted to switch the narrative thread back to Caspian at this point, and that would've made the chapter quite long and would've made you all wait longer for the update. :) Besides, there were enough revelations in this chapter as it was.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews!

(**Bettertobehappy:** feel free to translate it! Just, if you post it anywhere, make sure you credit it, so that anyone who likes it can find the rest of my work. BTW, I'm curious: what IS your native language?)

**Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

Caspian, Bern, Drinian and a few others rode into the market, with the foot soldiers following behind. Caspian was fully aware that the confrontation with Gumpas was only a small part of the work they had to accomplish. Gumpas was only a figurehead: the real battle would be with the opinions of the citizens themselves. It was one thing to overpower a governor who really had little power to begin with. It was something else entirely to convince an entire populace to give up a trade that had been so lucrative for them.

A slave auction was going on in the southernmost portion of the market, where Caspian himself and his friends had been sold off. Pug was up on a platform, taking bids on a young girl—about thirteen, Caspian estimated. The men in the crowd were making loud and crude jokes and the girl looked terrified. She reminded him of Igenia. He wondered how Lucy had fared at the hands of her master, and shuddered. But he needed to put the thought aside for the moment. There was work to be done.

Caspian, Bern, and Drinian dismounted, and they and a few of the foot soldiers marched up onto the platform, armor clinking and blazing in the sunlight. Pug stopped in mid-sentence and gaped at them.

"On your knees, every man of you, to the King of Narnia!" the Duke shouted.

Quite a number of the people in the marketplace had witnessed Caspian's entrance to Narrowhaven that morning. Some people (particularly those nearest to the platform and the armed soldiers) knelt, and a few cheered. But there were quite a few who simply looked confused.

"Your life is forfeit, Pug, for laying hands on our royal person," Caspian said, bearing down on the wide-eyed slave merchant. "But your ignorance is pardoned on condition of your future good behavior. The slave trade was forbidden in all our dominions quarter of an hour ago. I declare every slave in this market, and indeed in all the lands and holdings of Narnia, free."

The slaves in the pit cheered, as did some in the open market—but many looked nervously at their new masters and kept silent. Pug was still rooted in place with astonishment.

"On your knees, Pug," Bern growled.

"On whose authority do you demand a free citizen of Narnia kneel?" a confident voice rang out from the back of the crowd.

"Peris!" someone exclaimed.

Caspian, his face turning warm with anger, turned to see a man on horseback who had just arrived in the marketplace, with a contingent of foot soldiers marching up behind him. Peris, a somewhat small man, with rather pointed features and slightly gingery hair, was in very plain armor. Some of his men Caspian recognized as Gumpas's guards; others had better armor and weapons and must be Peris's own soldiers.

"We are the King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands," Caspian replied coldly. "These, though our free subjects, are requested to demonstrate their loyalty to our crown."

"Your crown?" Peris said with a smile. "What proof can you produce that you are His Majesty the King?"

Caspian opened his mouth to answer, but Bern beat him to it—the King should not deign to answer such a question. "His ship flies the royal standard, Peris. And these his crewmen and Captain Drinian are all loyal Narnians."

"Mister Stonefield," Peris said slowly. "Look carefully at that so-called King."

Caspian noticed for the first time that one of the men in the market who had gaped and shrunk back when he stepped onto the platform was none other than his former "master", the owner of Stoneshore Plantation. Stonefield looked back and forth between Peris and Caspian, as if trying to decide which one he was more frightened of.

"Is he not," Peris continued, "the slave you purchased in this very market not two weeks ago?"

Stonefield looked extremely apprehensive, but he nodded. "Yes, he is," he said quietly.

"This," Peris said, extending his hand toward Caspian and addressing the crowd, "is the slave who escaped Stoneshore and whose comrades there _murdered_ a Narnian citizen just yesterday morning!" There were a few angry shouts from the crowd. "And now here he comes, masquerading as the King, and demanding that you bow to him, when he should be hanged!" More murmurs, and some shouts of "That's right!"

Caspian took a step forward. "I _was_ wrongfully taken captive by Pug and sold as a slave," he declared, though his face burned as he said it. "The fact that I have been enslaved, just as these poor citizens have been, does not make it any less true that I am the King!"

He opened his mouth to answer the second charge, but Peris kept talking. "Just this morning," he declared, his voice rising, "he and his band of imposters marched up to Governor Gumpas' palace, overpowered His Sufficiency's guards, and made a charade of removing Lord Gumpas from his office! He then declared slavery to be abolished in Narnia. For the sake of revenge for his own enslavement, this cur wants to impoverish and starve every slaveholder on this island!"

The mood in some portions of the crowd were now growing very ugly. Caspian was furious, trying to control his anger in a dignified manner and at the same time think of a way to sway the crowd back to his side.

"Furthermore," Peris continued, "my men have, not ten minutes ago, recaptured two of this imposter's friends, a young girl and boy, lawfully owned by citizens of this island, who were instigating a slave rebellion!" Some members of the crowd were now roaring with anger. "This mountebank and his cohort of cheats will hang with them tomorrow morning!"

This last threat to Edmund and Lucy was finally too much. White with fury and disregarding the warning hands Bern and Drinian laid on his arms, Caspian drew his sword. "I will prove in combat on any man's body that I am Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia!" he declared. Caspian's soldiers and Peris's men drew their weapons.

Peris showed his teeth in a smile that was almost more of a snarl. "Then have at thee," he said.

Shoppers and merchants scattered in all directions as the two bands of soldiers rushed forward in a clash of steel. Caspian was focused in on Peris's smug face, and rushed toward the Doornian ringleader, knocking out of his way any of Peris's men who came between them. But he was distracted by a scream the came to him over the shouts and clangs of battle. Glancing toward the eastern edge of the marketplace, he saw Pug attempting to drag off the young girl he had had with him on the platform. With only a brief hesitation, Caspian gave up on Peris and headed in her direction.

The girl was fighting back frantically, screaming in alarm every time she could get a breath. Pug attempted to cover her mouth, and she bit his hand, hard. He gave a bellow of pain and drew back his arm to strike her.

His hand never fell. Caspian, coming in from behind, snatched up a long piece of board from nearby and struck Pug a hard blow on the back of the head. Pug fell like a rock. The girl stared up at Caspian in terror.

"Run, sweetheart!" he ordered, and turned back to see one of Peris' men aiming a blow toward his neck. Before Caspian had time to parry, the man suddenly gave a shout of agony and fell over. There was a grayish-black blur, a scream, and the man lay dead on the ground.

"Reepicheep!" Caspian exclaimed in delight.

"At your service, Sire!" the mouse saluted, and disappeared into the crowd. Even as Caspian followed him back into the fight, he saw more Doornians dashing into the marketplace armed with swords, bows, long knives, even spades and scythes. He couldn't tell at the moment which side was prevailing, but he knew that his men stood little chance. Even if they beat Peris's men and allies, Caspian and his troops could not retreat knowing that Lucy and Edmund were captive somewhere in Narrowhaven and would be executed summarily the moment the Doornians were rid of the King and his men. This was the last battle.

Caspian gritted his teeth, cleared his head, and swung his sword at his assailants as if the hot noonday sun were not beating down on his brilliantly-gleaming armor, as if the still-unhealed whip wheals on his back were not pulling and smarting agonizingly, as if he wasn't almost certainly going to die at the hands of his own subjects by nightfall. He focused on cutting, thrusting, and parrying, subduing his attackers one by one and defending his comrades. And in a moment, he found Peris directly before him.

The Doornian ringleader was still astride his horse, turned away from Caspian and raining down blows on one of Caspian's men from above. With a shout, Caspian charged forward and thrust his sword up under Peris's cuirass and into his back.

Peris stiffened and fumbled at his back as if trying to reach his wound, then slid sideways out of the saddle and fell heavily to the ground.

Caspian raised his sword to deliver the killing blow, but was checked by a sound of trumpets at the northern end of the marketplace.

_Oh no_, he thought bleakly.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN: **Mwa ha ha ha!

**Please review!**

Completely unrelated side note: Thursday is my birthday—I'm turning 25! :)


	18. Chapter 18

Sarielle, Stavrus and Leo headed away from the plantation as quickly as possible—Leo, who had apparently been in the stocks for some time, was still trying to get his feet under him and his cramped legs to hold his weight. Stavrus, meanwhile, was hoping they and the other slaves could get back to the docks before Peris or his men caught them, and also wondering over the scene that had just passed in the kitchens and courtyard. He had been equally surprised and relieved to see that the slaves quickly accepted Sarielle's word that their fellow worker was in fact the legendary King Edmund the Just. He imagined, in retrospect, that it had had something to do with the way His Majesty had conducted himself at the plantation, and perhaps with some specific incident related to the young man among the slaves who had led the others in doing the King homage. In any case, it was a story to be cleared up later, when all this was over—_if _they all made it out with a whole skin.

Much more disquieting had been his own reaction to the discovery of Sarielle's brother. He had wondered from the beginning at Sarielle's determination to be a part of Edmund and Lucy's rescue; he guessed now that she had all along been planning to rescue her brother. Although he was a little annoyed with her for not confiding her motives in him or, apparently, Caspian, he could understand her feelings: although an only child, he himself had cousins he was very close to, and he would have done anything to rescue them if he had found them in similar circumstances. But Sarielle's secretive behavior, he admitted to himself, was not what had disturbed him the most about the incident, but rather his own reaction. The jealousy he had felt when he saw her reunion with the young man had taken him wholly by surprise, as well as the great relief he had felt when he discovered Leo was her brother. He found her worry for him very touching. Until witnessing her with Leo, he had believed Sarielle to be an intelligent but perhaps rather cold person; now he saw in her interactions with her brother that she had a great deal of feeling under her carefully controlled exterior.

They had by this time reached the alley between the rock cliff and the last houses of Narrowhaven, and Leo was beginning to support more of his own weight. Stavrus was startled out of his reverie by a cry of warning from Sarielle and whoosh of an arrow past his ear. Someone on one of the flat roofs of the nearby houses was shooting at them, and had just missed Stavrus by a hairsbreadth.

Sarielle yanked Leo behind the corner of a building, and Stavrus pulled out his bow. The first rooftop archer fell without a cry; the other toppled from the corner of the roof with one of Stavrus' arrows in his chest, and landed heavily in the dust.

"Come on!" Stavrus grabbed Leo's arm and they were off again, even faster than before, Leo managing to stumble along with only his sister's help, while Stavrus kept an arrow at the ready, covering their escape.

As they got deeper into the town, Stavrus thought he could hear the sound of fighting. Rounding a corner, he suddenly found himself in the middle of a fray between the escaping slaves and group of men who blocked their path.

If these were Peris's men, as Stavrus guessed, they were not his elite force: they wore no armor and their weapons were rusted. But they were more than a match for the slaves, none of whom, besides Edmund, carried proper combat weapons. Edmund was wielding Stavrus's sword to good account. Some of the other slaves had picked up kitchen cutlery or sharp gardening implements when they fled, and were defending themselves. Some of the slaves seemed to have slipped away toward the dock—in any case, they were not within sight—but others were trapped between the buildings and their attackers.

Sarielle immediately waded into the skirmish, handling her long knife without much skill, but with plenty of enthusiasm. Stavrus stood back and picked off Peris's men one at a time as he could with his bow, and Leo, he saw out of the corner of his eye, plucked a sword from the hand of a dead man and charged into the fight with a shout, regardless of his sore limbs.

Stavrus was trying to keep a particular eye on Sarielle and Edmund from his awkward position at the edges of the fight. Edmund ducked a swing from a Doornian and disappeared from Stavrus's line of sight for a few moments. When he finally reappeared, still swinging, Stavrus scanned the group for Sarielle again and found her facing off against a man who obviously had far more skill than she. Stavrus tried to get a clear shot, but the two were too far away from him and moving too quickly to make it safe. Stavrus plunged into the crowd, trying to make it to the other side or at least come to a place where he could get a good shot in. Sarielle disappeared from his view again, and when he found a clear space, Stavrus found that her opponent had grabbed her by the throat with one hand and was trying to wrench her knife from her with the other.

"Sarielle!" Stavrus and Leo both shouted at the same time. But Leo was too far away to help, and Sarielle was between Stavrus and her attacker: he couldn't shoot without risking hitting her.

Suddenly Stavrus saw an arrow sticking out of the man's neck: but it was not one of his own. With a shout, a stream of soldiers in armor came pouring in. Stavrus recognized the form of their armor: it was the reinforcements from Brenn whom Lord Bern had sent for as soon as he learned King Caspian was missing. They had arrived just in the nick of time—and with them near the head of the group was Lucy, shouting and swinging a sword for all she was worth.

000

Despite the desperate situation, Caspian delivered the killing stroke to Peris, and turned to do battle with the Doornian reinforcements, expecting at any moment to feel an arrow piercing between the plates of his armor. But the arrow never came, and he realized as he raised his sword to attack that his own men were cheering. At the head of the column of soldiers who were streaming in, Caspian saw the standard of the Seven Isles. He gave a cheer of his own and fought his way over to meet their captain.

By the time he reached them, Peris's men, outnumbered and with their leader dead on the ground, were surrendering. Caspian greeted the captain heartily and thanked him for his aid, but immediately turned and began scanning the Doornian soldiers. He saw the man who had identified himself as the captain of Gumpas's security, sitting down under guard at the west edge of the marketplace. Caspian strode over.

"Where are my friends? The boy and the girl?" he asked sternly.

The captain looked down. "Dunno," he muttered.

"You don't know _Your Majesty,_" Bern growled, limping over.

The captain gave a half-shrug and looked away.

With a snarl, Caspian grabbed the front of the man's shirt and hauled him up bodily until they were nose-to-nose. "_Where are they?_"

The man, finally frightened out of his sullenness, raised his hands and exclaimed, "I don't know! Really!" Bern leaned in menacingly, and the man added, "Your Majesty!"

"Peris said his men had captured them."

"Someone sent Peris word that there were slaves escaping, including the friends you had had with you when you were captured, Your Majesty. He sent men after them, but the rest of us set out immediately for the slave market! I don't know where they are! Your Majesty!"

"Sire," the Brennian captain said at Caspian's elbow, "Queen Lucy ran down to meet us when we came in to harbor and told us that both you and King Edmund were in danger. A smaller band followed her down the back alleys to try to find His Majesty while the rest of us came to back you up. They will be coming back to meet us at the harbor."

"Then I will leave these prisoners under your guard, Captain, and go down to meet the men myself," Caspian replied. "I have waited a week to know how my friends fare, and I can wait no longer."

000

In just a minute, the Doornians were subdued, disarmed, and being tied up. Stavrus made his way over to Sarielle, who didn't appear any the worse for wear, and who was hugging her relieved-looking brother.

"Are you alright?" Stavrus asked, touching her shoulder.

Sarielle looked up and gave him a small smile. "Yes."

"Both of you?" he turned toward Leo.

Leo, far more demonstrative than his sister, grinned. "Fit as a fiddle."

Stavrus guessed from the stiff way that Leo was standing, and the way he had been moving before the fight, that this was a fib, but before he could say anything, a voice spoke up behind him.

"Stavrus of Glasswater, as I live and breathe!"

Stavrus turned to see Dervin, a sailor on the Swanwhite with whom he had struck up a friendship during the Dawntreader's brief sojourn in Brenn. They shook hands heartily.

"Your timing is impeccable," Stavrus said with a laugh. "It's at least a week's sail from Brenn—how did you get to Doorn so fast?"

"When you left Redhaven, a few of ships were sent out to search for those pirates that harried you between Galma and the Seven Isles. We were at the southeast edge of our circuit when Lord Bern's men caught up with us. So the Minotaur and the Swanwhite headed out for Doorn and sent the Nausia back for more soldiers."

"Your Majesties," Dervin's captain was approaching Edmund and Lucy, who were hugging one another even more convulsively than Sarielle and Leo had done. "We must meet the others and King Caspian at the harbor."

"Oh yes," Lucy said, pulling away from Edmund and smiling, though she was wiping away tears. "_Dear _Caspian! Lead on, Captain."

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN: **Thank you for all the birthday wishes! I did indeed have a good birthday—made particularly awesome by doing the birthday dance at swing dancing two nights later (it's when the people having birthdays stand in the middle of the group and people take turns stealing in and dancing with them).

We're up to 100 reviews on this fic—thank you! (**trecebo** wins the prize for 100th review lol)

(**bettertobehappy**: In response to your earlier question, no! Your English is impeccable. It's just that you mentioned "your native language" but didn't say what it was, so I was curious. :)

**Please review! **And there's more to come!


	19. Chapter 19

Caspian, Lord Bern and Drinian rode down to the harbor, leaving the Brennian captain and his troops to deal with the prisoners. Caspian was squinting down the road, hoping to see his friends long before he would possibly be able to spot them. When he _did_ pick them out, from a distance, he broke into a canter—the people, all shocked by the day's goings-on and just beginning to come back out into the streets after the Brennians charged down them, scattered from his path.

Caspian leapt off his horse almost before it had come to a stop and caught Lucy up in a huge hug. Then he held her out at arm's length and cast his eyes over her for a moment. "Are you alright? Did they harm you?"

Lucy, smiling brightly through her tears, shook her head. "I'm fine, Caspian. Really."

He gave her another hug, then turned to hug Edmund as well. "I can't tell you how worried I've been about both of you!" he exclaimed, a lump rising in his throat. "Reep's alright," he added.

"Yes, I know," Lucy replied; "he came down to the dock to make sure I had made it alright before he went off to help you. But Caspian, where's Eustace?"

Caspian and Edmund looked at one another with dawning horror.

"Drat! If I didn't forget about him in all this!" Edmund exclaimed, appalled.

"Sarielle!" Caspian said, catching sight of her nearby. "You had heard where Edmund and Lucy were sold—did you hear anything about Eustace? Another boy?"

Sarielle wore an expression of surprise. "There was another? I heard nothing about it!"

"Oh, you don't think he was sold to Calormen, do you?" Lucy asked, stricken.

"Not to fear, Your Majesties," an older gentleman spoke up from nearby. "The boy's right here."

"Eustace!" Lucy gave him a hug and Edmund clapped him on the back, but Eustace rather bore with their welcome than reciprocated. But rather to his cousins' surprise, he didn't say anything, just looked sulky and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Eustace, where have you been?"

"The young man had been staying with me," the older man who had brought him over replied. "Pug had no luck selling him, so he let him go. The poor lad didn't have anywhere to go for help—I found him living on the street and took him in." Eustace hunched his shoulders and looked every sulkier.

"We are much obliged to you, Mr—"

"Claybottom, Your Majesty. Elasius Claybottom."

"Elasius—" Edmund said, staring at him for a moment, then surprised his friends by going off in a peal of laughter. "Elasia! I am very pleased to meet you, Sir."

Mr. Claybottom was smiling at the reference as Edmund shook his hand, but everyone else was lost. "Lucy," Edmund said, "do you remember the first time we sailed out here, with Peter and Susan?"

"Oh, yes, on the _Splendour Hyaline,_" Lucy exclaimed, "with her swan's head prow and her silken sails!"

"Well, I've been trying to think how the slaves here could possibly have heard of me—you know that saying they have…?"

"Yes," Lucy answered briefly, though she was grinning ear to ear.

Edmund turned a little pink, but smiled back. "Well, I was wondering how they remembered about me, but not about the rest of you. It had to have had something to do with that voyage. And now I know!" He turned to address Caspian as well. "When we first landed here, we were approached by a young woman named Elasia. She had been cheated out of her inheritance by her cousin, who claimed she couldn't inherit because she was a woman, or some rot like that. He had left her nearly destitute, and she came to us for reparations. Peter was occupied with a dispute over tariffs, and I took the case and forced Elasia's cousin to render the estate to her. We stayed in Doorn a little while—do you remember?—and then sailed on for a little over a fortnight to see if we could find any land. Eventually we had to turn back, and when we got back to Narrowhaven—"

"Half the town was waiting for us on the wharf!" Lucy exclaimed. "_Now _I remember! Everyone who had some sort of case had been going to Elasia and asking her how she had gotten justice, and she kept telling them, 'Wait until King Edmund returns.' _And_ she had been using her inheritance to help out some more unfortunate Doornians—telling them it was 'in the name of King Edmund.' Oh, it's no wonder the Doornian slaves were waiting for your return!"

Edmund turned to Mr. Claybottom. "Are you related to Elasia, by any chance, Sir?"

"I am," Mr. Claybottom answered with a smile. "I am her descendant. The name has been passed down from generation to generation in her honor. My family has always worked in the law court of Doorn, and until Peris' rise to power, I worked with Lord Bern to try to stem the slave trade."

Edmund shook his hand again. "Well, I am glad to see that the family tradition of justice has been preserved as much as the name of Elasia," he said warmly.

Caspian, who had been standing with his hand on Lucy's shoulder, lost his balance momentarily and staggered sideways. He had forgotten his wounds and the infection while he had been fighting, but now that the action was all over, they were catching up with him.

Lucy, mindful of Caspian's dignity, did not ask him if he was alright, but instead exclaimed, "Oh, my cordial! I must see to the soldiers. Here we all are, standing about and talking, when there's _such _a great deal to be done!"

000

The Kings and Queen of Narnia feasted that evening with the Duke of the Lone Islands and the Captains of the _Dawn Treader, Minotaur, _and_ Swanwhite_. Sarielle, Leo, and Mr. Claybottom were all seated at the head table with them, and those sailors who were not on duty also joined in the festivities. Despite having the wounds on his back healed by Lucy's cordial, Caspian was very weary from their exertions that day and was glad to retire to bed early after dinner.

Lucy was right; there was a great deal to be done before the _Dawn Treader_ could continue with its mission. Peris's supporters had to be uncovered and imprisoned in preparation for their trials before Lord Bern. Peris himself was dead, and Pug was discovered to be so, as well: when he had recovered from the stunning blow Caspian had dealt him in the melee, he had picked up a weapon and attempted to fight on Peris's side. He had subsequently been killed by one of the Brennians. Caspian was glad of this; he had, after all, offered Pug clemency initially, and preferred that the man be killed in clean combat, clearly guilty of violence against the crown, than that some embittered slave had caught up with him later and murdered him, thus creating another guilty party.

Much to Caspian's relief, it seemed that Peris's main supporters had been a handful of very rich plantation owners and the people that had been deep in their service: the majority of the population, while not entirely pleased with the prospect of one of the island's sources of income being cut off, was loyal to the crown and would support Lord Bern. Many of them had been appalled by Peris and disgusted and irritated with Gumpas, and welcomed a change of authority figure, especially one as eager to listen patiently to their legal complaints as the new Duke. The _Dawn Treader_ would wait to sail until reinforcements arrived from Brenn, just in case, but Caspian had no real fear that with the ringleader gone the Doornians would cause Lord Bern any trouble in Caspian's absence.

Another question was what to do with the newly-freed slaves. Some of them, of course, wished to return to their homelands and their families, and Lord Bern was arranging transportation for them. But some of the freedmen preferred to remain in Doorn, and what they were to do there was a bit of a puzzle. Some would continue to work as servants—_paid _servants—of some of the Doornians, and there was legislation underway to establish a minimum wage. Meanwhile, some of the larger plantation owners would need to sell off most of their land, now that they no longer had the free labor to farm it all. Bern was planning, at Edmund's suggestion, to buy some of this land and turn it into communes where freed slaves could communally own and work the land, living off its produce and the profits gained from selling the surplus.

Caspian, meanwhile, had offered Sarielle and Leo a place on the ship if they wished to sail on with him. Sarielle had agreed. "We have no family left back in Terebinthia—and frankly, I want to get away from this island," she disclosed.

Leo, to Caspian's surprise, had declined. The King had learned that Sarielle's brother had a reputation among the slaves as a staunch supporter of their rights: in fact, he had been urging them to revolt for some time. Bern had offered him a position as a personal advisor. Leo, who was trusted by the former slaves, would help to see to it that there were no secret injustices occurring against them, and could give Lord Bern an insider's view of their progress. The young man had latched onto this task with enthusiasm. A charismatic and friendly fellow, he had also made friends with a great deal of the _Dawn Treader _crew (who were in turn warming up to Sarielle, having heard of the good job she had done on her quest in Narrowhaven, and seeing in what warm affection she held her estimable younger brother). Leo was consequently helping the crew to haul twenty-eight days' worth of supplies on board the ship the evening before the _Dawn Treader_ was due to leave harbor.

He was laughing and chatting with the sailors as they hauled the barrels and crates on board, and Sarielle was standing off to the side, leaning against the side of the ship and smiling affectionately at his jokes. Caspian came over to join her. He had been helping the men for awhile, but he had now grown over-warm at the hard work in the hot evening sun. Normally he would have quickly remedied this by removing his jacket, as Edmund had done some time ago, but he knew that the scars on his back would be visible through the fine, sweat-soaked material of his shirt, and he was still rather self-conscious about it.

He greeted Sarielle and stood watching the men for a few moments. "I almost couldn't believe it when they told me you had a brother who was a freedom-fighter," he finally said, shooting her a teasing glance. "I could only imagine how heartily you disapproved."

She smiled. "I didn't disapprove of his goals, just his methods," she replied lightly. "The worries I had, trying to keep him out of trouble when we were younger! And the things I heard he got up to after I was sold to a different plantation. He is very brave, but not always prudent." She grinned suddenly. "Perhaps that's why you reminded me of him."

Caspian laughed. "Is that why you took such good care of me?" he asked.

She nodded. "Cass and Leo. Two peas in a pod. You know," she said abruptly, looking up at him, "you needn't be ashamed of the fact that you were a slave."

Caspian started, feeling almost as if she had read his mind about the shirt. "What?"

She gestured to Leo. "Lord Bern hired Leo as an advisor because Leo knows what it is like to be a slave. It means he is more alive to injustices. You have also been a slave, the lowest of the subjects of Narnia, and you will be an even better King for it."

Caspian, struck by this observation, didn't reply. After a little while, Sarielle changed the subject. "It seems unfair that everyone on the island should have been quoting that old prophecy about King Edmund ever since the battle, when really, it isn't _Edmund _who freed the slaves," she observed. "It was _you_. The slaves were freed when King Edmund returned, but Edmund wasn't the one who did it."

Caspian gave a half smile. "I don't think I can take all the credit for being the King Edmund of this situation," he disagreed mildly. "If not for _you_, I would not have _survived_ to abolish slavery in Doorn! _You're _the one who made all this possible."

Sarielle looked up at him, and he saw that he had surprised her as much as she had surprised him. "You told me once," he continued, "that the slaves didn't have the power to challenge their oppressors: only to subvert. That you could only help each other as far as was prudent, and could not be expected to put yourselves in true danger for one another. Well, you put yourself in danger to help me. And that's the only way any of this would ever have come about." He gestured to Leo. "Leo put himself in danger many times as a slave by challenging his masters. But if he had really succeeded in creating a slave revolt, if all of the slaves had been willing to put themselves in danger for one another, perhaps slavery would have ended here before I even arrived."

Caspian saw that she was deep in thought, and he turned to move away. "Your Majesty?" she said, and he turned back. "Thank you for keeping your word—for saving my people."

Caspian swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank _you_, Sarielle," he replied, "for saving _me_."

Sarielle's expression softened, and she inclined her head.

She was still standing in the same place a few minutes later when Stavrus came over, the crew having finished provisioning the ship.

"I heard you'll be sharing the King's cabin with Queen Lucy," he said, wiping his brow as she made room for him beside her. "I'm sure she'll be glad of the company of another woman on board—and _I'm_ glad you're coming too," he added without embarrassment. "It's a pity your brother won't be coming." She nodded, and after a moment he added, "I was angry with you at first, for putting a spoke in the plan by going back for him instead of getting out of that house as soon as we heard the warning bells. You were planning to rescue him all along, weren't you?"

Sarielle nodded. "Yes. That's why I insisted on going into Narrowhaven. He has such a penchant for getting in trouble, and I was sure that the developments—Peris's suspicion, the rumors that were flying around the island about the ship—would have put ideas in his head. I knew that if he wasn't in trouble with his master already for insurrection, he would be soon. I had to get him out."

"Why didn't you tell us you wanted to rescue him?" Stavrus asked gently. "Caspian would have seen to it that he was safe. So would I."

She looked up at him, cocking her head to the side. "I believe you would," she said at last.

"Alright men, let's check over this ship!" Drinian called from the helm. "I want to make sure every inch of her is watertight before we're towed out tomorrow!"

"Back to work," Stavrus said, pushing himself up and heading off to his duties. "Are you ready to begin a new adventure, Sarielle?"

She smiled happily. "Yes, I am," she answered.

**TBC**

**

* * *

AN: **Just an epilogue to go!

You would not believe how long it took me to find the name of the _Splendour Hyaline_…

Thank you for all your lovely reviews!

**FelipeMarcusThomas **and **bettertobehappy: **I suppose they could always do like the English did with Oliver Cromwell: dig him up and kill him all over again! lol

**bettertobehappy: **I agree about the odd pattern of climaxes in this story. Honestly, for me the biggest climax is probably little short chapter 16, when Sarielle suddenly diverges from the plan, goes BACK into the house of which the inhabitants are already aware that the slaves are escaping, and we discover that she has a brother! In retrospect, I probably needed to lead up to that chapter more (mention more about Stavrus wondering why she wants to go into Narrowhaven so badly, etc), and give it a bit more time in the chapter itself—more details, more hammering home the point that she was seriously endangering them all by going back for Leo, etc. But that's the thing with posting chapter by chapter: there's no way to go back and revise once it's posted! (Or there is, but it doesn't change how the initial readers will view the story, so there's not a whole lot of point.)

**Yalda Ctana: **I actually considered, at one point, pulling this story out the whole way through the voyage. But honestly, it's been hard enough for me to get enough time to finish up this shorter version—if I tried to write the whole thing, I would NEVER finish it! I'm afraid you'll have to make do with the epilogue, which will be posted next.

**Please review!**


	20. Epilogue

You will not be surprised to hear that Sarielle traveled with the crew of the Dawn Treader the whole way to the utter east and back. So far from causing them to resent the presence of yet another woman on board, she became very popular amongst the ship's crew—she was always so helpful and hardworking.

"_And_," Rhince added in tones of highest praise, "when she doesn't understand how to do something, she stays out of the way of the people who _do_."

She was an ideal crewmate: quiet, steady, loyal, and nearly unflappable in a crisis (though it might be better not to ask what nightmares she saw on Dark Island). Stavrus, so like her in so many ways, was one of the members of the ship's crew who remained loyal to their mission when faced with temptation at Ramandu's table, and who volunteered immediately to sail on to the world's end.

When Lucy, Edmund and Eustace returned to their own world, Sarielle was for a short time the only woman on board: but that did not last long. Ramandu married Caspian to his daughter, and Sarielle acted as the new Queen's attendant on the return voyage. When the ship stopped at Doorn on their way back to Narnia to see Lord Bern, they found that peace had been restored, the most recalcitrant of the rebels executed, and the deceived or narrow-minded now reforming themselves. Only one crew of Brennians was still there, and as Caspian saw they were no longer needed to keep the peace, they departed with Caspian when he sailed on to the Seven Isles. Before they left, however, Caspian himself performed the wedding of Sarielle and Stavrus so that Leo, who was proving himself every day a most useful advisor to Lord Bern, could be present at the ceremony.

Sarielle and Ramandu's daughter got on so well that the new Queen asked Sarielle to come live at Cair Paravel as the head housekeeper. And lest you should think this was no better than her post as a slave in Doorn, I should add that though the position of housekeeper for a great and beautiful royal palace comes with plenty of responsibilities and a lot of hard work, it also comes with great honor, and Sarielle was very happy with her job and adored by all who worked under her.

True to his word on Ramandu's Island, Caspian awarded the name of Dawn Treader and gold or land to all of his crew. Stavrus and Sarielle were given a lovely piece of land traditionally held by the crown near Glasswater, and when Sarielle eventually stopped working at Cair Paravel (she had, after all, no need to work with the wealth Caspian had given them), Stavrus's cousins came to live with them and their children, and they were often guests of the King and Queen.

Do not think that Sarielle was always separated from Leo, either. Leo continued to work for the Duke of the Lone Islands for as long as the Duke lived, and was often the carrier of the diplomatic pouch, traveling back and forth between Narnia and the Islands. He married Lord Bern's merriest (and most responsible) daughter, and the two of them inherited the title Duke and Duchess of the Lone Islands and ruled jointly after Lord Bern's death.

Sarielle herself changed over the course of the voyage. Now that she was no longer a slave, and was surrounded by people who respected and like her, her natural character asserted itself. Though she was always steady and quiet, she smiled much more, and occasionally even displayed a dry sense of humor.

And sometimes, just sometimes, one of her loved ones could startle her into a laugh.

**The End**

**

* * *

AN:** Thanks to everybody who stuck with it to the end and who left such lovely reviews! I'm really glad I managed to finish this sucker up.

**FelipeMarcusThomas:** I don't have any plans to write more about these particular characters. But if YOU do, be my guest! :P If I were going to write another Narnia story, I would probably try to finish up the one I began years ago about Susan. But I don't honestly have any plans for that at the moment.

**Yalda Ctana: **lol I have written many characters that were very like me in my life, but I can honestly say that Sarielle is _not_ one of them. We're both female, white, straight, and under 30, and that's about where the similarities _end_.

Thanks again to all my readers! You guys are great!


End file.
